


Fingerprints on Glass (Oops, You Left a Mark On My Soul)

by LadyChi



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyChi/pseuds/LadyChi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy is the child of a pair of wealthy and notorious drug dealers and human traffickers. Having escaped that life to work for SHIELD, the very last thing she wants is to be forced to go back. But when her parents' charity event is used as a front to market and sell Extremis, she finds herself, at SHIELD's request, diving back into her parents' world. But she's not alone. Captain Steve Rogers is with her every step of the way as her fictional fiance. What should be a simple intelligence-gathering mission gets complicated as Darcy and Steve develop real feelings for each other, and stumble upon a network that's even more large and dangerous than SHIELD thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Have to Start Somewhere....

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot. I am incapable of one-shots, apparently. Thanks to Vylla for all of her encouragement. You should check out her current AU Avengers challenge at vylla-art.tumblr.com.
> 
> As always, feel free to follow ME on Tumblr! chi-stories.tumblr.com. 
> 
> (And don't worry, Old Jazz Record fans, I'll be finishing that series out next week. :) )

They’d spent the better part of a week fighting some sort of robot-thing in the Dominican Republic, and they’d managed to come back mostly unscathed -- Clint had a few bruises (which Steve gathered was normal for him), and Steve had nearly broken his arm, but they were alive, and that was a good thing. Still, as they finished their equipment check in the jet, Steve looked over his team.

 

Clint moved carefully, favoring his right side. He was silent -- but then Clint rarely talked unless it was to make a snarky comment.

 

Natasha was keeping her hair longer, straighter now, Steve noticed, as they repacked equipment on to the jet after a brief away mission. It was the same shade of red, maybe a touch darker, and her eyes were less tired than they had been right after New York. She seemed to be coping well, he thought, and he finished checking the last parachute with a sigh, repacked it and shoved it back against the wall where it belonged.

 

“You don’t have to check up on me,” Natasha said. Apparently he hadn’t been as subtle with his assessment as he’d hoped to be.. “I’m not one of your soldiers.”

 

“No, but I consider you a friend.” Steve shrugged. “I keep an eye on my friends. And mostly I was thinking that I like your hair that way.”

 

Natasha smiled knowingly at him. “Well, friend, what do you say to a post-victory vodka?”

 

Steve laughed. “Alcohol doesn’t do much for me.”

 

“That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard,” Natasha said, shrugging her shoulders. “Well -- come out anyway. Clint and I plan on doing something terribly irresponsible.”

 

Hawkeye appeared behind her and nodded slightly. “Have a drink with us, Cap.”

 

“You get two or three vodkas in this guy and he takes his top off and dances on a table,” Natasha said, straight-faced. “It’s quite a sight to see.”

 

“Hey, just because my mom didn’t put that stuff in my bottles….”

 

“You’re still a lightweight.”

 

Steve mostly wanted to go home and run to the gym, work out his remaining adrenaline on some sandbags. It wasn’t that he didn’t like bars -- he had, before, and probably would again, but he found coming down from a mission to be difficult around other people, sometimes. It was hard to get out of Captain-mode into my-friend-Steve mode without working his body into exhaustion, collapsing into sleep and waking up in the right frame of mind. But since Stark, Thor, and Banner had disappeared to different parts of the world after New York, and Natasha and Clint worked for SHIELD, they had sort of adopted him into their makeshift partnership/adopted family. And he didn’t really want them worrying about him, the same way they didn’t want him worrying about them.

 

“Uh -- yeah, I guess I could go for a beer.”

 

“After the debrief, then,” Barton said, and he opened the back of the jet up and they set off down the plank to the SHIELD vehicles that would take them to the secure location where they’d be debriefed.

 

“I could text Marnie, from Operations,” Natasha said, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “She’s got a thing for you.”

 

“No thanks.” Steve shrugged. “I would rather just keep it simple.”

 

“Good call,” Barton said. “There’s a girl out there for you, but it’s not Marnie. She’s… something.”

 

“You practically killed her dog,” Natasha said, with an eyeroll.

 

“I could list multiple reasons why that is not my fault.”

 

“That’s not what she says,” Natasha shot back.

 

***

 

Steve clenched his fists as the SHIELD agent maneuvered their vehicle in and out of traffic.

 

“Makes you kind of wish you were on your bike, right?” Barton joked, his attention out the window as well.

 

“Control freak,” Natasha said, raising her eyebrow at Barton in a teasing way.

 

“Oh, hi there, kettle.”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “English. Ugh.” She pulled her phone from the bosom of her uniform and began to tap the screen. It wasn’t long before Barton was doing the same, and Steve remembered with a start that his new handler, an Agent Sitwell, had on more than one occasion reminded Steve that people checked their phones with a near-obsessive quality these days. And that maybe, to a lesser degree, that might be a habit he should pick up.

 

He unlocked the screen and noticed that he had quite a few missed calls (a few from Tony, who called occasionally just to irritate him, he was convinced) and a text message from a number he didn’t have programmed into his device.

 

“No rest for the wicked, Cap. Debrief’s on hold. Full explanation to follow. See you soon. - Phil Coulson.”

 

Something lanced through him. He immediately recognized what had been done, and he felt worse than manipulated. Steve grit his teeth, and Natasha looked up in surprise. “Something wrong, Rogers?”

 

“Maybe. It’s hard to say right now.”

 

Barton scoffed. “Cryptic. He must be learning from you, Natasha.”

 

Both of their phones chirped at the same time, and Steve watched as both of their faces set into grim determination. They shared a glance with each other, and then put their phones away nearly at the same time.

 

***

 

Darcy Lewis hadn’t just walked away from the life she’d known before once she left high school -- she’d flat out run, and she hadn’t looked back.

 

When Darcy had graduated from the best private school in the tri-county area, she’d taken herself and her misplaced sense of identity to Culver University, where she’d drifted for a few years before haphazardly settling on Political Science as a major area of study.

 

It wasn’t that she was dumb -- on the contrary, she was incredibly smart, but narrowing her choices to just one thing hadn’t seemed that interesting, initially. Nobody that she’d grown up with really worked for a living -- they had nominal jobs in the law firms their parents owned, they’d taken an interest in fashion and perhaps “ran” a boutique by paying others to manage and work there… Or, like her parents, they were content to make their money through less … palatable means.

 

But she did have street savvy. She’d worked hard not to need her parents or their money. She got scholarships, worked her way through school, and took out enough loans to induce panic attacks for the rest of her life, but she was content to deal with that, rather than wonder where the money that was paying her bills had come from.

 

So when she’d finally graduated from college, a few semesters after she probably should have, and SHIELD had come knocking on her door, she hadn’t exactly been in the proper frame of mind to receive such an offer. She’d had a few choice words for the sober-faced Agent Sitwell that had come to her with an offer of employment.

 

“You have got to be out of your mind. Do you know what you lunatics did to me in New Mexico? Years I spent working on that music collection! Years! And you come along and wipe it out!”

 

Agent Sitwell had his hands in his pockets. “Listen, Miss Lewis, the world is changing -- you’ve been there, on the front lines. You’ve seen it change. We know things now we didn’t know before -- and we’ve been exposed, not just as a nation, but as a world, to a whole new kind of threat.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, take the propaganda somewhere else, buddy, I’m not falling for it.”

 

“Phil Coulson was falling for it. He took an alien spear to the chest and died for it.”

 

Darcy bit her lip. “Yeah, well, I’m sorry that he’s dead. It sounds like he was real important to you.”

 

“Agent Coulson was the agent you met in New Mexico, Miss Lewis, and when we were going through his files to collect his effects to send to his family, we ran across his notes about that incident. I know he probably didn’t leave a good mark on you, Miss Lewis, but you left a good mark on him. He said, and I quote, ‘Jane Foster’s assistant, a Darcy Lewis, shows great promise -- she’s got the kind of initiative and chutzpah we need at SHIELD.’”

 

Darcy shifted her weight. “Yeah, well, that sounds really nice of him, but…”

 

“Salary, Miss Lewis. Benefits. The ability to put your political science degree to use on an intergalactic scale. You’ve already got an in with the Asgardians, I’m sure you’ve got more of an idea of how to deal with them than anybody we’ve got behind a desk as SHIELD. Come on, Miss Lewis. It’s not just that your country needs you. It’s that your world needs you.”

 

Darcy fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

 

***

 

When she’d taken the job, she figured as an entry-level analyst/assistant, she’d be working nine to five, riding a desk, pitching in where she could. She had no idea what she was really in for.

 

The first few weeks were like bootcamp -- running, jumping jacks, weapons training (everyone at SHIELD carried a gun at all times), security protocols, basic encryption studies -- it was enough to make her eyes cross. Her friends and family grew concerned when her normally-frequent Facebook updates and Tweets vanished nearly overnight, but Darcy simply didn’t have the energy at the end of the day to come up with anything clever to say.

 

Then things had settled down. She’d gotten used to the routine. She’d gotten used to the politics of working someplace like SHIELD, which was both large and unwieldy and surprisingly cliquey. She went to the office everyday, she read and analyzed reports, she made suggestions, she fetched coffee, she went home.  

 

And then, one day, she met Phil Coulson again.

**

 

Even in the dead of night, there were more than a dozen agents mulling about the hallways and bullpens of the SHIELD offices. Printers and computers hummed. Men and women, all in similar black suits moved efficiently and parted around Steve, Clint and Natasha as they made their way to the main bank of elevators without saying a word.

 

Natasha pressed the call button as soon as the doors opened and waited until a pleasant female voice answered the tone. “All the way up, please, Janice.”

 

“Of course, Agent Romanov. You’re cleared for entry.”

 

Steve waited patiently while the elevator made its slow ascent. The material of his uniform was soaked through with sweat and clung to his body, and he noticed, for the first time, that it was kept extremely cool in the SHIELD building. He catalogued all this, but didn’t let it bother him. Unlike the last time he was a touch too cold, a shower was right around the corner.

 

The doors opened and Steve stepped out into a foyer that was a lot more quiet than the first floor. There was a row of desks, but only one was occupied. There sat Janice Stone, a long-time secretary at SHIELD. The rumor was she’d been there since its inception and refused to retire. She was an institution at the agency, and Steve quite liked her.

 

“There they are. The three musketeers,” she said brightly. “Go on back, Fury and Coulson are waiting for you.”

 

Clint leaned down across her desk and batted his eyelashes. “Anything you want to tell us before we walk in there, Janice?”

 

The white-haired woman adjusted her reading glasses. “Your butt looks good in those pants, Barton. I’d tap that like a keg, if I were 20 years younger.”

 

Clint laughed and winked at her. “I think I’d take you up on that, if I were 20 years younger, Janice. I don’t have the energy to keep up with you.”

 

“Facts are facts,” Janice said dryly. “And the fact is, Fury’s back there, and you know him. He’s always on a schedule, and you’re always five minutes behind.”

 

“Noted,” Steve said, grinning at her as he strode around Natasha and Clint toward Fury’s office. “Thanks for the help, Agent Stone.”

 

“Anything for the Captain,” Janice said dryly. And, of course, she meant it.

 

***

  
  


Darcy had submitted this particular report with no little trepidation. She knew what popular opinion at SHIELD was regarding the suppression of abilities, but they’d brought her in, supposedly, because she didn’t back down, and so if they really wanted to know what she thought, she would tell them. And she wouldn’t pull any punches. If she lost her job, well -- it wasn’t like living in Manhattan was expensive or anything.

 

She turned the report in at 4:55, and hastily gathered her bag and personal items to leave the building. She made it all the way to the elevator. The elevator had jerked to life and was slowly lowering her to the ground floor when it came to a stop without the doors opening.

 

“Miss Lewis?” said a voice from the speaker.

 

“Yes? Is there something wrong?”

 

“No,” the woman on the other end said, “one of the higher-ups would like to see you before you leave, however. I’m rerouting you.”

 

Darcy sighed. “Great.”

 

Slowly, the elevator began to move in the opposite direction, going up, and up, and up -- past the numbers of floors the elevator had listed.

 

“Miss Lewis, you’re about to enter a restricted area,” the pleasant voice said, “from here on out, anything you see is strictly top secret.’

 

“I don’t have top secret clearance.”

 

The doors opened, revealing Maria Hill. “You do now,” she said, with a half-smile.. “Welcome, Miss Lewis. Come with me.”

 

“Listen, I’m sorry about the report,” she said, “but I wouldn’t have said what I said if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary. So, if you’re going to fire me, I’d appreciate it if you did it now.”

 

Hill’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t think Phil wants to see you about a report.”

 

“Phil?”

 

“Welcome to Clearance Level 7,” Maria said flatly. “Phil Coulson is alive.”

 

***

  


Hill moved quickly down a hallway, and Darcy had to nearly run to keep up with her, avoiding busy-looking agents that brushed by her without acknowledging her presence. Apparently Clearance Level 7 had a lot to do with being an asshole, she thought.

 

“Sorry to pull you in at the end of the work day, but we just got your security clearance confirmed,” Hill said, stopping at a door.

 

“What’s going on?” Darcy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Agent Coulson is on the other side of that door,” Natasha said softly, “and he wants to talk to you.”

 

“Wait. They told me he died.”

 

An expression Darcy would never want aimed at her crossed Maria Hill’s face. “Yeah, well. Join the club. That’s what they told everyone.”

 

“What does he want?”

 

Hill shrugged. “Apparently, he wants your help.”

 

***

 

They hadn’t yet knocked on the door marked as conference room one when it opened, revealing a pale and exhausted-looking Agent Phil Coulson on the other side. “Oh good. You’re here,” he said, stepping to the side. “Come on in.”

 

“Nice to see you, Phil,” Clint said, “you’re looking remarkably... alive these days.”

 

“I am sorry about that,” Phil said, but there was nothing apologetic about his tone or his demeanor. “I’m afraid that was Director Fury’s decision. I’m told the outcome was… optimal.”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Ends justifying the means?”

 

“Something like that.” Phil shrugged. “And, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly a lie. I did die. And then they brought me back. Sent me to Tahiti to recover on the company dime.”

 

“That’s quite a set-up,” Barton said. “The last time I got injured, I didn’t even get flowers.”

 

“It was lovely,” Phil said, in an oddly-flat tone of voice.

 

Steve was used to not having all of the information -- years in the Army had reinforced the concept of need-to-know, but he couldn’t help but feel manipulated. He had a harder time getting over the rising anger in his chest than Natasha and Clint apparently did.

 

“As distasteful as the ruse was, we found it necessary in order to compel you all to complete your mission,” Nick Fury said, stepping away from the window, where he’d been so still and so silent, Steve had nearly missed him. “Sorry to pull you away from the field directly, Captain Rogers, Agents Romanov and Barton, but this briefing could not wait.”

 

The door opened and Maria Hill stepped in. “Director Fury, here’s Miss Lewis.”

 

**

 

Darcy stopped just inside the doorway, her jaw nearly dropping at the sight in front of her. She’d worked at shield for half a year but she’d never spent any time around Director Fury, and she sure as heck wasn’t high enough up the chain of command that she got face time with any of the Avengers.

 

And now she was being escorted into a room with three of them.

 

“Um -- are you sure you’ve got the right Darcy Lewis?”

 

“Yes, I’m afraid we need your expertise,” Coulson said, gesturing for her to come all the way inside. “Darcy Lewis, SHIELD intelligence analyst, meet Captain Steve Rogers, Agent Natasha Romanov, and Agent Clint Barton.”

 

Darcy raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Uh, hi. Everyone. I guess.”

 

“Dismissed, Agent Hill,” Fury said, and the door  closed behind her. “You all may take a seat.” He gestured to the table, and Darcy moved forward anxiously, stopping in surprise when Captain America, still in his uniform, pulled the chair out for her.

 

“Surreal,” she muttered under her breath.

 

“I have that thought often myself, Miss Lewis,” Cap agreed in a low voice, and Darcy found herself blushing. Of course Cap heard her -- he was a super soldier. That probably came standard with super hearing.

 

“You’re about to be briefed on a substance known as Extremis,” Coulson said, and began passing out folders that were thick with information. “It’s a bastardized version of the serum that was used to turn Steve Rogers into Captain America in the 1940s.”

 

“Not only is Extremis dangerous,” Fury said, standing at the head of the table with his hands clasped behind his back, “the organization that is attempting to develop a more effective version of the serum has extreme political views and violent tendencies.”

 

“What you’re saying is they’re terrorists.” Darcy felt Cap stiffen and look over at her in surprise. “What? I think you should call a spade a spade.”

 

Captain America chuckled, and Darcy felt something warm spread in her stomach. She tamped down on it. Hard. Her rule number one of surviving irrational crushes was to avoid acting like a dingbat if she could help it.

 

“Yes, Miss Lewis. In so many words. Extremis’ benefits are such that they turn any normal human being into a killing machine. For a few hours,” Coulson said. “And then the victim, and we use the term victim, because to the best of our knowledge, not very many of the test subjects are actual volunteers -- the victim burns. From the inside out.”

 

Cap raised his finger in protest. “Wait. Stark was telling me something about this. Didn’t he figure out how to neutralize it?”

 

“That was an early, more volatile version of the serum,” Fury said, “and Stark has made available to us all of his records. But as the scientists work to stabilize it and get more predictable results, the serum becomes more dangerous.”

 

“If they can administer it and control the substance for any length of time --” Natasha’s voice trailed off.

 

“They could build their own army.” Clint tapped the table. “That’s always a good idea.”

 

“Okay -- so -- who are these people?” Darcy asked.

 

“AIM,” Phil said.

 

“We don’t know much about them,” Natasha said.

 

“No. We don’t.” Coulson set his shoulders.  “And now we come to the objective of the mission, and the reason why Miss Lewis is in this briefing.”

 

“Oh good.” Darcy sighed. “It can’t possibly be worse than what I’m imagining, can it?”

 

Fury unfolded his arms. “How long has it been since you had any contact with your parents, Miss Lewis?”

 

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Uh -- years. Maybe… six? Seven? Oh God.” She drew in a deep breath. t “Listen, whatever you’re thinking -- it’s probably a terrible idea. There’s a reason we don’t talk.”

 

“We’re aware, Miss Lewis,” Fury said. “And provided we had more time, we would do everything in our power to leave your personal life alone. However, we’re going to get one shot at this -- just the one. The people who fund this organization are hard to get to, even for SHIELD.”

 

“And of course they’re connected to my parents, because they always show fabulous judgement,” Darcy muttered.

 

“As I’m sure you’re well aware, Miss Lewis, a week from now, Marilyn and David Lewis will be hosting their annual Lewis Global Fight for the Cure Weekend,” Coulson said, pulling up a large display with Darcy’s childhood home in the center of it. “This is their country estate, which will be the site for most of the activities. It begins with a gala on Friday night, and there are a number of activities through the long weekend.”

 

“The event does raise money for charity,” Fury said, to the three other agents in the room, “but mostly it serves as a front for the various criminal elements in their organization to negotiate treaties and deal with logistics. For years, the CIA and the FBI have tried to get an agent on the inside or gather enough intel that they could move on the organization, but they never had the kind of in we do now.”

 

“We’re concerned that Lewis Global will attain the contract offered by AIM to distribute Extremis, and we’re hopeful that we can gain enough information about AIM through the attendees at the weekend that we can begin to take down their internal structure. We know for sure that at least one known backer will be in attendance this weekend, and our contact inside that organization seemed to think the contract would come up for discussion during the weekend.”

 

She could not stop the flood of anxiety that swept through her. “So you’re… going to send me back.”

 

“Yes,” Agent Coulson came around the table. “But not alone, Miss Lewis. Your parents they may be, but Marilyn and David Lewis…”

 

“You don’t need to tell me what they’re capable of. I’m perfectly aware.” Darcy could feel her face going white.

 

“I’m not,” Steve said bluntly. “What kind of people are they?”

 

“My parents made their money trafficking drugs. And little girls,” Darcy said, swallowing bile. “When I was seventeen, I saw them chop off the hand of one of my ‘uncles’, Dmitri, because he’d dared to short them two hundred dollars in a drug deal.”

 

“If the authorities could gather appropriate amounts of evidence,” Coulson said, “the Lewis’ would be going down for fifty-six counts of murder in the first, at the least.”

 

Natasha got up from the table and crossed her arms, still not saying a word. Clint sat with his arms across the table. “So, what’s the play?” he asked.

 

“In order to get in, we need a family connection,” Fury said. “We’ll need to send Darcy in as the prodigal daughter returned.”

 

“Not alone,” Steve said. “You said that before, but who’s her partner?”

 

“You. Barton and Romanov have both been compromised after the events of New York,” Fury said. “You, Captain Rogers -- you will be going in as her fiance. You just got back from Afghanistan six months ago, and you and Miss Lewis have experienced a whirlwind courtship.”

 

“Excuse me. What?” Darcy looked shocked. “My parents have been following me. No way they believe I’ve suddenly acquired a boyfriend… much less a fiance.”

 

“On the contrary, Miss Lewis,” Coulson said, “for the past several months we’ve been working on misleading and confusing your parents. For at least a half a year, they haven’t been able to track your movements at all. They’ll believe anything you tell them.”

 

“Has Miss Lewis been trained for this kind of undercover work?” Steve asked.

 

“I’ve had the basic field training every SHIELD agent has to have,” Darcy said, tapping her fingers on the table. “I’m not completely incompetent.”

 

Steve shot her a look, like she was a mouthy teenager. “I didn’t say that, Miss Lewis. I’m afraid that perhaps your safety wasn’t fully taken into account when this scheme was… hatched.”

 

“All we need,” Director Fury said firmly, “is for you two to go in, gather as much intelligence as you can, and get out. No one gets hurt. No one has to be a hero. We don’t need you two to sell anything complicated. Just gather as much information as you can. Agents Romanov and Barton will be staying in town, keeping their heads down. They’ll be a minute’s drive away. We’re going to make this as safe as we possibly can, Rogers. But we can’t let this opportunity go by to kill this Extremis thing once and for all.”

 

“Miss Lewis, Captain Rogers, you’ve both been given file folders about each other -- just basic information. I would encourage you both to read them,” Coulson said. “And you have a week. Miss Lewis -- you are excused from your normal duties this week. Your assignment is to get to know Captain Rogers well enough that you can sell this cover story to your parents.”

 

Darcy stole a look at Steve, who was carefully avoiding looking at her.

 

“We’ll have another briefing on Thursday just before you go under,” Coulson said, standing up. “Good luck, Captain Rogers, Miss Lewis.”

 


	2. Chapter Two: Coffeeshops and Kolaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Steve get to know each other a little better, but the mission may already be compromised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kat Morning for the quick section-check, and Vylla for the encouragement. 
> 
> And THANK YOU to everyone who left kudos and comments! I'm so thrilled you like this story! Since I'm done writing this chapter I'll have time now to respond to reviews from the previous chapter before I dive back into writing. I'm HOPEFUL that I can keep up this chapter-a-week pace. 
> 
> And yes, this story ignores Thor 2 because I hadn't seen it yet when I started posting this.

The sun was rising over New York City when Steve finally determined he’d waited until an appropriate hour to collect Darcy. They didn’t have a lot of time, and they had a pretty intense cover to sell. He figured they didn't have a minute to waste. 

 

The previous day, he hadn’t really been fit for human company after the briefing, and despite his promise to Clint and Natasha, after they'd been dismissed, he’d begged off and went home to shower, then hit the gym, and then shower again.

 

And then draw. And watch TV. And count the ceiling tiles. And track the slight discolorations to them. After so long asleep, he found himself putting it off for as long as he could most of the time.

 

Also, the doctors at SHIELD had informed him, his body was a super-charged machine and it did nothing by halves. So the adrenaline that’d been coursing through his body during the latest mission would likely keep him buzzing for days. A good thing, perhaps, in a soldier in the midst of a war -- a bad thing for one who was only consulting these days.

 

He walked up the stoop and pressed the buzzer. There was no response, so he put his hands in his pockets and waited a few minutes, noticing some kids rushing on bicycles to get to school and the pretty window box on the second story window. While he waited, two black sedans drove by, similar enough that they’d raised his awareness for a half of a moment before he figured out that they were different.

 

And still no answer, so Steve reached out and pressed the buzzer again. He checked his watch, and looked around for signs of life.

 

“Rogers, is that you?” Darcy’s voice crackled over the speaker.

 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I’m here for our, uh… date?”

 

“Blargh,” Darcy said -- or at least, that’s what it sounded like. Steve’s lips twitched in amusement. “It’s so early. I’ll bet there’s like -- newspapers still on stoops and stuff. Or there would be, if newspapers still got delivered. Ugh. Okay, I’m buzzing you in, but I want you to know this is not the impression I would normally want to make on a first date, but… anyway. Come on up. 2B.”

 

Steve climbed the stairs, noting that the elevator was out of order, and the stairs creaked ominously, and there was a funny smell that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. The hallways were narrow and the carpet was brown and threadbare. It reminded him a little of the places he’d grown up -- six or seven people crammed into one-bedroom apartments, three generations all living together out of economic necessity sometimes.

 

When he reached the apartment, he lifted his hand to knock, but Darcy opened the door before he got there. “Hey, sorry -- come on in. I’ve got nosey neighbors and I don’t want to explain to Mrs. Lebowitz what a strapping young man was doing knocking at my door while it’s barely light outside.”

 

“Thanks.” Steve tried hard not to stare, but Darcy was obviously still in the clothes she’d slept in -- hair a voluminous mess, a long t-shirt -- and, he blushed -- no pants.

 

“I didn’t realize when you said we’d get a fresh start in the morning that we’d start when the morning was actually, you know, fresh.” Darcy gestured at the living room. “So uh -- make yourself at home here for a second and I’ll… just -- a few minutes, okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Steve said, and Darcy disappeared behind the one and only door in the tiny apartment.

 

Steve took a look around. There was one window which looked out on the street that Steve had been standing on, and he realized the window box of flowers was hers. The kitchen was immediately adjacent to the living area, and he could see piles of bowls stacked high and open cereal boxes on one side.

 

On the other side of the apartment, a huge floral sofa dominated the tiny living space, and prefabricated shelves of different colors lined the walls. They were stuffed with books and photographs and odd little porcelain figurines. He bent closer to a figurine of a pig playing a fiddle.

 

“Baba gave me that one,” Darcy said, from the doorway. She’d brushed her hair into something resembling order, and she had donned a long sweater and leggings, holding her boots in her hands. “She had kind of a funny sense of humor. She said she really liked the look on his face, so serious, you know? Like -- everyone would look at the pig and think, ‘oh cute, it’s a pig playing a violin’ but old Horton here, he saw himself as the finest musician on the world stage.”

 

Steve smiled. “That’s a nice little story.”

 

“Anyway. Hello.” Darcy made her way over to the sofa and sat on it, pulling her boots on while Steve stood there, awkwardly.

 

“Hello.”

 

“So. You’re going to be my fiance.”

 

Steve shrugged. “Apparently so, for the next little while.”

 

“Have you ever had a girlfriend before?”

 

“Once. Sort of. It’s…”

 

“Complicated?” Darcy smiled. “Yeah -- I hear that a lot, running in the crowd of people I run in.”

 

“What crowd is that?”

 

“Avengers-adjacent,” Darcy said, chuckling. “You know -- not quite superheroes, but the people who love superheroes. I do a lot of liasing for SHIELD with Pepper Potts, and I was Jane Foster’s assistant…”

 

“Jane? Thor’s dame?”

 

“Oh, please call her that in front of her. I mean please.”

 

Steve flushed. “I uh, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just trying to pla…”

 

“No worries!” Darcy waved a hand. “That’s how you’d know her. She’s with Thor. Or whatever they’re calling it these days. For an immortal and a magpie they sure are reluctant to use labels.”

 

“A… what?”

 

“Oh, you know.” Darcy reached behind the sofa. “He’s going to live another two, three thousand years. She… won’t. It’s sort of tragic and sad and beautiful, when it’s happening to someone else. When it’s happening to your best friend it’s a little…”

 

“Upsetting?”

 

“Nah, I wouldn’t go that far.” Darcy shrugged. “You love who you love, you know? And who can blame her with Thor? He makes her happy. She really lights up from the inside out, and I can’t begrudge her a minute’s happiness, you know?  But I can wish that maybe she didn’t fall for the Viking that fell out of the sky. Just… maybe something a little less tragic and sad and beautiful. That’s all.”

 

Steve nodded, and it was Darcy’s turn to blush. “Annnnd now I’ve said too much.”

 

“No, I don’t think so.” Steve rubbed his neck. “It’s good to know this stuff. I, um… I was going to say, there was a girl, back in my time. Her name was Peggy. We were going to go dancing. And I never made it. Went into the ice before I could make the date.”

 

All of which was information which was probably in the file she had, so it wasn’t like he was telling her some deep dark secret, but Steve still  felt the urge to cross his arms and look elsewhere -- body language his SHIELD-issued therapist called “defensive” and “hard to breach”. Probably not good things to be with your pretend-fiancee, Steve thought, so he took a deep breath and looked her in the eye.

 

“Speaking of beautiful and sad and tragic,” Darcy said, and while her words might have been flip, the expression on her face was anything but. She got to her feet and laid a gentle hand on Steve’s bicep. “This got a little intense for before eight a.m., don’t you think?”

 

Steve shrugged. He didn’t sleep, and days and nights sometimes -- well, most times, got turned around and up could be down without him blinking an eye.

 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but if we’re going to continue this conversation, I’m going to need some coffee.”

 

Steve nodded. “Coffee would be good.”

 

“Let’s get out of here, yeah? I’m sorry. If I’d realized you were going to be stopping by, I would have at least ran the vacuum or something. I’m just… never here.”

 

Steve waited while she put on her jacket, and then held the door open for her to leave. “I’m not at my apartment very often, either. SHIELD keeps me pretty busy. Except for when they don’t.”

 

“What’s that like? Do you go crazy?” Darcy locked her door and looked up at him, her berry-colored beanie contrasting with her dark hair. “I mean, I guess I’m wondering if all superheroes are like Tony Stark. That guy’s like a terrier. He has to be entertained every single minute of every single day.”

 

“No,” Steve said, “I mean -- I guess a lot of folks don’t realize it, but a lot of war is just -- sitting around, waiting for the bad stuff to happen. I mean, sometimes you march into battle, but sometimes you’re sitting in a camp for two weeks. So I’m sort of used to -- lulls.”

 

He ignored his conscience screaming at him about telling tales for a long minute before he grit his teeth again. “I guess I should be honest with you, since you’re going to be spending a fair amount of time with me and uh -- we’re supposed to be…”

 

“Intimate,” Darcy said, gesturing for him to lead the way out of the corridor to the stairwell.

 

“Yes, that. I um, I don’t sleep much. So I guess the real answer is, when I’m bored I draw. Or I box. Or I watch bad television.” Or I track water stains moving across my ceiling tiles sounded pathetic in a way he didn’t want to examine, so he said, “or I do some observation exercises to keep my skills sharp.”

 

“Whatever gets you through, right?”

 

“So, uh -- what about you? What do you do when you’re bored?”

 

Darcy shrugged. “Not much in the way of boredom for me these days. When I’m not working, I’m trying to make time to spend with Jane or I… okay, you’re going to laugh.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“I just -- growing up I never had to cook, because someone else always cooked. And in college I never had the money for anything other than Ramen and Pop-Tarts, so.” Darcy set her shoulders. “I’m taking a cooking class. So far I have succeeded in not burning water.”

 

Steve grinned. “That’s awesome. I should take that class with you. I am not a good cook, either.”

 

“I think this relationship is doomed, then,” Darcy said, a serious expression on her face.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I love food.”

 

Steve burst out laughing.

 

“I’m serious. I have been in a long-term, serious, committed relationship with calories for the past twenty-four years and I need someone who can supply me with delicious ones.”

 

Her hand was on his arm all of a sudden, her face lit up with amusement.

 

“So you can’t commit to me unless I feed you well, huh?”

 

“I’m afraid not.” Darcy shook her head and sighed. “Tragic, Captain. Just tragic.”

 

**

 

Darcy led Steve down the street to a coffee shop she’d discovered last week. The selection of a coffee place in a city that had as many to offer as New York had was an important process, Darcy had decided, and for the past several months, she’d tried all of the ones within walking distance of her shitty little apartment, more often than not just so she could get out of the building. SHIELD paid decently, but she had student loans to account for, and dreams to save for, and she’d taken the place as a temporary stop-gap until she was more financially secure. But that meant she’d spent a lot of her disposable income on lattes over the last several weeks.

 

This one was good -- not for its coffee, which was palatable, but for the baked goods that filled the glass cases. In particular, apple-pie kolaches, the mere thought of which was causing Darcy’s mouth to water. And it seemed like every other office worker in a six block radius had the same thought, because the line went out the building.

 

By the time they’d got to the shop, some of the sadness she’d inadvertently brought into Steve’s eyes had faded a little as they talked about food they’d eaten growing up -- Steve had basically, apparently, subsisted on casseroles pre-Army and had no good words for the MREs he’d choked down in the Army.

 

“I should warn you, I guess,” he said, “that I have to eat -- a lot. All the time, basically, when I get a chance so…”

 

“So maybe we get a dozen kolaches for you and one for me,” Darcy said, sticking her tongue out… and then rapidly pulling it back in. She wasn’t sure that was the kind of flirting you did with Captain America.

 

But he stuck his tongue out right back at her, and she dissolved into giggles.

 

“Darcy?”

 

Her eyes widened. That was a voice she hadn’t heard in years. She turned slowly. “Alex?”

 

“Fancy seeing you here.” He was broader through the shoulders than he had been, the last time they’d seen each other, when she was just about to turn eighteen and planning her big escape, and he’d been a twenty-one year old kid. He had a scar on his face he hadn’t had before, either. But his eyes were still the same bright green and his hair the same shocking red. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks -- if Darcy didn’t know exactly who and what he was, she might have even called him cute.

 

He opened his arms to her, and though her heart was racing -- she wasn’t ready yet to encounter her past, she wasn’t _supposed_ to be ready yet -- she stepped into them. “Hi, Alex. What are you doing here?”

 

“Your parents, they have been looking for you,” he said, stepping back. “For several months, we could not find you. We got a lead that you might be in New York. And so, I am here. In New York.”

 

“Darcy?” Steve’s arm wrapped around her waist, and rather than stiffening, Darcy found herself relaxing back into it. “Who is this?”

 

“This is Alexei Davydov, an old family friend,” Darcy said. “Alexei, this is my fiance, Steve Rogers.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, extending his right arm with a warm smile, though his left arm stayed right where it was, anchoring her to his side.

 

“We… had not heard that you were engaged to be married, Darcy.”

 

Her blood ran cold. She hadn’t had time to practice this bit -- and now she would have to sell their story to someone who knew her well -- still. She squared her shoulders. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, Lewis, she told herself.

 

“It happened sort of… fast,” she looked up. “But can you blame me? Look at that jaw line.” She winked at Steve as though this were a private joke.

 

He squeezed her side and chuckled. “But I’m sure, if you know Darcy you know how -- engaging she can be. We just sort of figured out…”

 

“And then, you know -- we thought… why not?” Darcy laughed and boldly reached to cup Steve’s jaw with her hand.

 

“Truly, I am gladdened by this news,” Alex said, his shoulders relaxing. “I thought perhaps you would not find someone like this in your life.”

 

“Yeah, well, it surprised me too,” Darcy said, and then she felt Steve’s warm lips on her cheek and she couldn’t help the blush that spread over her cheeks.

 

“You are a very lucky man,” Alex said to Steve, and then turned his attention to Darcy.  “Perhaps with you returning to live so close to home you will make an appearance next weekend?”

 

“Perhaps,” Darcy said cagily. “I am not certain how welcome I would be.”

 

“You recall the story of the prodigal son who squandered his fortune and returned home, yes?” Alex said, rocking back on his heels.

 

“Not a story of my people,” Darcy said lightly, pointing to the star of David she wore around her neck. “You’ll remember.”

 

“But your boyfriend knows,” Alex said. “Oh, excuse me. Fiance. You’re a Christian man, aren’t you, _Captain_ Rogers? He remembers the story -- a man went out into the world and lost all his loving father had given him. He repented of being ungrateful, and wasteful, and came home. And was welcomed with loving arms.”

 

Steve’s grip tightened around Darcy. He hadn’t told Alexei his rank. That meant the man knew more than he was letting on. “So, you’re saying don’t come back unless I come crawling?” she asked.

 

“No. I am telling you -- they will welcome you -- and your uh -- fiance, with open arms.” Alex took a step back. “But I see, it is almost your turn to get your coffees. I will leave you now. I hope to see you soon, Darcy… Rogers.”

 

They nodded, and watched him disappear. Steve’s arm never left her side. He bent to whisper in her ear. “From now on -- we assume -- everywhere we go, everything we do -- we’re being watched. Whatever SHIELD was doing to hide you -- they’ve stopped. The mission doesn’t start in a week. It starts now.”

 

**

 

Natasha opened one eye. Something had disturbed her sleep. She shifted in the white linen sheets of Barton’s bed. Clint’s phone was going off, and he didn’t sleep nearly as lightly as she did. He would wake up in a few rings, but until then, his phone would annoy her.

 

“Ouch!” Unless she pinched him awake, of course. “Damn it, Natasha, we talked about this.”

 

“Get your phone to stop the thing,” she said, without opening her eyes.

 

Clint rolled over, his body weight pressing her comfortably into the mattress while he retrieved his phone. He grunted. “It’s a text from Cap. He needs to meet us at a secure location.”

 

She was instantly and completely awake, though she didn’t move. “Is he okay?” Steve didn’t casually text.

 

“No injuries to report,” Clint said, after he received a reply. “But someone from Darcy’s old life met them at the coffeeshop. It was clear he’d been looking for her. He wants SHIELD to make sure they’re still secure.”

 

“Not a good sign,” Natasha said darkly. “If they’re compromised, we’ll have to pull them both out before we even begin.”

 

“Someone dropped the ball here,” Clint said. “We better figure out who.”

 

**

 

Steve finished off his round of texts with his friends while their coffees where finishing brewing. “Hey, do you mind if we get those pastries to go?” he asked the overworked barista, who, bless her heart, looked right into Steve’s gorgeous blue eyes and told him that he could have anything he wanted. Anything.

 

“I’m sure she means that literally. Tell me, is getting propositioned everywhere you go a regular  thing?” Darcy asked. Steve could see that she was trying to distract herself. Running into Alexei had clearly shook her up.

 

“It uh -- it isn’t unusual,” Steve said, shrugging his shoulders. But he noticed a man in the corner who was paying a little too much attention to them, and not enough to the tablet he was supposedly looking at. He sat stiffly, as though he were ready to get up at any minute.

 

Steve took Darcy’s hand and squeezed it. Darcy nodded, almost imperceptively. She'd noticed him, too.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s a little rude. She could see we’re together,” Darcy said, under her breath, and Steve couldn’t tell if the petulant and slightly jealous tone was part of her cover or not.

 

“Here you go,” the barista said brightly, handing over a white box full of pastries and two cups full of coffee.

 

Darcy shot her an evil look and took the box firmly. “Thank you. _We_ appreciate it.”

 

Steve chuckled and put his hand on the small of Darcy’s back as they navigated through the coffee shop and out onto the street. Sure enough, the man got up and followed them -- subtly, but he was there. Steve guided Darcy over to a corner and lifted his hand to flag down a cab.

 

“What do we do now?” Darcy asked, quietly, so that the man following them wouldn’t hear…. so she was aware that they were being watched. Good.

 

“We meet Natasha and Clint at headquarters,” Steve said, stepping out into the street as a taxi pulled up. “They are apparently aware that I work there, so we’ll just -- be going to drop off some paperwork. We need to make sure your cover hasn’t already been blown, that your family isn’t aware.”

 

“If it has?”

 

“Then we abort the mission. No other option,” Steve said. “I won’t send you into a situation where your own family might decide to hurt you.”  

 

Darcy stepped forward to open her own door, but Steve got it for her. “What about Extremis?”

 

“It wouldn’t be worth walking into a no-win situation over,” Steve said. “I’m an Avenger, but I’m not a god, and I can only keep you safe to the best of my ability -- and even if the cards are stacked in our favor and our cover’s not blown that’s not a perfect guarantee, so. We don’t take risks we don’t have to. Not with human lives.”

  
Darcy bit her lip as Steve shut her door, jogging around to the other side to get in himself. But she couldn’t help thinking that maybe she and Steve worked for different SHIELDs.


	3. Bend, Don't Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's iron facade crumbles, but Steve's there to help put her back together, but now, for sure, there's no way out of a mission that's looking increasingly doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter mentions harm to a character's beloved pet as part of another character's sociopath-development.

 

 

The door opened soundlessly, and Coulson caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. He had been wondering when the Widow would come to see him, and he was almost relieved that she got it out of the way first thing in the morning.

 

“You’re here early.” She stood in front of his desk, arms crossed over her chest. A lesser man would have trembled.

 

Phil lifted a corner of his mouth. It was a good thing he wasn’t a lesser man.  “I’m about to ship out again. Just finishing up some paperwork. What are you doing here, Natasha?”

 

“Ship out? Leaving so soon?” Natasha took a seat in one of the chairs across from him, beautiful but deadly. Her tone was pleasant enough, but there was ice in her eyes.

 

“With my team. Agent Sitwell be handling your undercover case at the Lewis mansion.”

 

“Ah, your little... project,” Natasha said. Phil wondered how she had come by any information about his team in the short amount of time she’d known he was alive, but only for a minute. He’d known Natasha for a number of years, and it never did him any good to try and suss out her methods.

 

“We can’t all be Avengers, Natasha,” Phil said softly.

 

“No, of course not,” Natasha said. “I just thought perhaps you would like to stick close to your friends.”

 

“You know, of course, that I…”

 

“Lied.” Natasha said flatly. “You lied.”

 

There was an acid taste in his mouth. “I didn’t lie.”

 

“No, of course not.” Natasha's smile was nowhere near sincere. “You were lied for. I would never hold you responsible for something your superiors did.”

 

Phil rubbed his forehead. “Natasha…”

 

“You know, some day I will stop being surprised when SHIELD jerks me around like a marionette,” Natasha said, without venom.

 

“I apologize, I really and truly do, but it was necessary…”

 

“I do not care for an apology,” Natasha said, waving a hand. “I was, however, hoping for your help on this mission. Despite what you have done, you are among the few handlers I trust.”

 

“I leave you in good hands.”

 

Natasha’s mouth twitched. “And I am supposed to take your word for it, I suppose?” She sighed and got to her feet. “Disappointing, Agent Coulson. Very disappointing indeed.”

 

“Agent Sitwell is more than capable of handling the liasing with the Avengers. And he is certainly more than capable of running an undercover op.”

 

“If this is so, then he will demonstrate that capability as he has for the last few weeks, and perhaps in a year or two, I will come to trust him as I have trusted you.”

 

“It’s my own team, Natasha -- doing good work. Stopping evil before it gets out of hand -- before we need you guys.”

 

“And you take this assignment over working with the Avengers.”

 

“The last time I worked with the Avengers, I got stabbed in the chest and I died.” Coulson stood, as well. “Changing career plans is not betrayal, Natasha.”

 

“No, it is not.” She seemed to snap back to herself. “I apologize, Agent Coulson.” She walked to the door and had her hand on the door before Phil spoke again.

 

“Natasha --”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or Barton.”

 

“What was the point in even coming back then?”

 

“My team has the most experience with Extremis, outside of Tony Stark. It was deemed that enough time had passed. There was no reason to keep you guys out of the loop.”

 

“We never would have got out of Budapest without you,” Natasha said, without turning around. “You can now consider us… even.”

 

She was nearly out the door. She’d been his friend for years, and no matter how unlike himself he was feeling at the moment, it didn’t feel right to leave things like this.  “Natasha -- what did you want my help with?” Coulson asked, coming around the desk, hoping to breach some of the space between them.

 

Natasha turned around this time, and joined her hands together in front of her -- her typical briefing pose. “Captain Rogers has been in touch. He and Miss Lewis had an interesting encounter this morning in the city. He’s concerned that the mission may already be compromised.”

 

Coulson looked down at his desk, and the detailed plans of a plane, the personnel files of the agents under his command who were patiently waiting for him, and sighed. “Does Sitwell know?”

 

“Barton is briefing him while we speak. We’ve both reached out to our contacts in the organized crime world. Hopefully we’ll know more soon.”

 

“Ah, okay.” Coulson rapped his desk with his knuckles, wishing he could be two places at once. “I can’t change my plans, Agent Romanov, but -- I will be available, should you need me.”

 

“I will take you at your word,” Natasha said, rising to her feet. “Because of Budapest.”

 

As the door shut behind her, Phil shook his head. “Some things, you just can’t get away from…”

 

**

 

Once they were safely in the cab, Steve allowed himself to slowly part from Darcy. It couldn't be denied that she was exactly the kind of dame he went for -- smart, good on her feet, bold. Perhaps she was more brash than the girls he'd known back home, but he even liked that. He liked how he could tell she'd been a little scared, but she'd held it together. And he liked the way she smelled. It was near-on August, and she smelled like lemonade and oranges and musk -- light and womanly all at the same time. And he liked her deep purple nails, and the harsh cut of her laugh. 

 

It was easy -- it was too easy, to fall into the role of her protector. Easy to wrap his arms around her and whisper in her ear and play the couple games he had seen Bucky play with girls back home, to do all of the things that for so long he'd dreamt about being able to do with Peggy. It almost burnt, knowing that he'd kissed Darcy's cheek and held her close, but hadn't really gotten the opportunity to do those things with  _her_. 

 

To tell the truth, until the events of New York, he'd felt like part of him was still asleep under the ice. He absorbed the blows of losing his family in the Howling Commandos, and his world, and everything he'd ever known. He'd mourned, he'd moved on.

 

Being around Darcy was like having his leg wake up -- the sharpest points of needles deep inside of the tissues of his body -- the good kind of pain. The kind of pain that said blood was moving to parts long-dead. He could lose himself in Darcy Lewis, he knew. 

 

Or maybe not. Maybe she was just what he needed, with her criminal family and her quick wit. Maybe, if he hung around long enough around her, he might start to feel alive.

 

He almost started to laugh, wondering what his psychologist would say about  _that_. He looked over at Darcy, who had slid to the other side of the cab, and noticed that what little color that was left on her cheeks was slowly fading away. "

 

**

 

The world-weary Captain that she’d seen the night before was back. Gone was Steve, who had hugged her and kissed her cheek and played the doting boyfriend. It was clear that he was trying to set boundaries, and Darcy tried not to pout. Or panic.  Out on the street, she’d felt like he had her back all the way, like she had nothing to fear with him watching her every move. Now it felt like the curtain had gone down on their romantic play from earlier, and with the silence in the cab, she had way too much time to ruminate on what seeing Alexei meant.

 

The last time she’d seen him, he’d been only twenty-one-years-old, but he’d been working for her parents since he was sixteen. There were whispers that her father was grooming him for something big. It was said that he had promise.

 

Darcy had been drawn to him -- he was quick-witted, and could be charming when he wanted to be. He was definitely smart. Darcy liked nothing more than a smart man.

 

He was also ruthless. And unforgiving. And didn’t mind killing in slow, painful ways when it suited his purpose. Darcy knew that better than anyone.  

 

When she had heard his voice on the street, she had figured on a fifty-fifty shot of her being sent to kill her. After all, the penalty for betraying the family was death.

 

And what she had done, when she had climbed out of the window that night after high school graduation, taken the roadster her parents had bought her for 16th birthday, ditched it at the nearest bus stop, and headed for Culver when everyone thought she was headed for Harvard -- could be considered nothing less than treason.  

 

Of course -- a public execution on the street was a little bold, even for the Lewis family. It could be that they were trying to draw her home to take care of her there, where she could be easily disposed of, her death easily explained. Darcy’s fists clenched. And if her parents didn’t want her dead, there were probably half a dozen lieutenants who were chomping at the bit to take over who might want to see any threat to their inheritance of the throne executed….

 

“I’m going to be sick,” Darcy said under her breath as the cab pulled up to the curb.

 

“Lady, are you okay?” the cab driver looked in his rearview mirror, concern for his interior all over his face. “You look really green.”

 

“Just -- motion sick. It’s the stopping and starting,” Darcy said weakly, and forcefully shoved open the door before Steve could come around the car to open it for her. Her knees nearly knocked together as she swung them out of the cab. Steve was suddenly in front of her, his hand reaching to support her elbow and guide her out of the cab.

 

The cabbie leaned across the passenger side and spoke through the open window. “You got her, mister?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, paying the fare while Darcy focused on breathing in and out. “Thanks for the ride, sir.”

 

Darcy bit back hysterical laughter. She had to be engaged -- fake engaged, but engaged nonetheless, to the politest superhero in the world. What, exactly, was her life?

 

“C’mon Darce,” he said lowly, leaning his chin close to her hair. “I just need you to keep it together until we get in the building.”

 

“I’m not freaking out,” Darcy said, focusing on taking one step at a time. “I’m not.”

 

“I know you’re not. Sometimes it takes a minute to hit us, that’s all. You’re doing good, doll,” Steve said, and he pulled the door open for her, and then swiftly led her over to a bank of elevators, pushing a button.

 

“Hello there, Captain Rogers,” Janice’s voice said over the loudspeaker.

 

“Janice, I need you to do me a solid. I need access to Fury’s office,” Steve said.

 

“Fury’s not up there,” Janice drawled. “I could make an…”

 

“I need the room, Janice.” Steve’s voice seemed like it was really far away. “Top Secret, priority one.”

 

“Of course, Captain,” Janice said, and suddenly they were flying through the air, faster than any elevator Darcy had ever been on.

 

Oops. Darcy let her knees give out and sat abruptly on the floor. To her surprise, Steve followed her, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

 

“I don’t want to do this,” Darcy said, covering her eyes, so she wouldn’t have to see the expression on Steve’s face. “I really and truly don’t.”

 

“We don’t have to,” Steve said quietly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

 

The elevator dinged, and Steve gave her space to push herself up off of the floor, and walk out into Fury’s private office.

 

“They’re going to kill me,” Darcy said, hugging her chest. “I thought maybe they wouldn’t, you know, before, but now I know… I know for sure they’ll kill me.”

 

Steve, to his credit, didn’t say anything stupid and masculine. “This guy scared you.”

 

“He should. He should scare you. He’s a fucking sociopath.”

 

“Tell me about him, then,” Steve said, sitting on the floor next to her, and wordlessly handing her several mints from a drawer in Fury’s desk.

 

“I guess you could say we grew up together. He wasn’t that much older, but he worked for my folks. We got close. For my seventeenth birthday, he gave me a puppy,” Darcy said, digging in her purse for some Tums to settle her stomach. “I named her Mallory, and she was the sweetest thing. She used to follow me everywhere, and she had the longest, floppiest ears and a cold nose. She was mine for six weeks.

 

“Alexei was twenty then -- and oh, so smooth, and I was more than a little bit in love with him. It didn’t hurt that my father was so enamored of him. I didn’t understand… everything that I understand now. They took great pains to make sure that I had no idea of… Well, anyway.” Darcy cracked open the roll and took two.  “Baba had just died. I think Daddy was distracted. Or maybe this was the way they wanted me to find out the truth about the business.” Darcy shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is I saw the drugs sitting in the warehouse -- I saw Alexei sell pure crack cocaine to a thirteen year old kid. And then Alexei saw me see him. And he told me -- if I told anyone, anyone at all, it wouldn’t matter that my father was his boss, he’d make sure….” Darcy swallowed. “And then the next morning I came down stairs, and he’d killed my puppy. He left me her ear in a paper towel on the kitchen counter. He made sure I knew it was him, too. I tried to tell Daddy, but he told me -- he told me sometimes a high price had to be paid to make a point. And that was the last time I felt safe in my own home -- Alexei could get to Mallory, kill her, with no one saying anything, and I knew, I just knew… I couldn’t stay. I absolutely couldn’t stay.”

 

“Darcy…” Steve’s voice trailed off, his hand reaching for hers, the tips of his fingertips just barely touching hers.

 

“And I’ve felt bad, really I have. I should have… done something. To stop it all.” Darcy’s eyes were closed. “If I’d been a better, stronger, person, I would have gone to the police, done something… anything. There are probably a lot of dead people because I found out what my family does and I just… ran. And so now you know. You know why I’m so scared.”

 

“I get it. I do.” Suddenly, Steve’s hand was gripping hers. “You’ve got _nothing_ to feel bad about. I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad you’re here. And I want to help you, if you want to go back now, you know, as an adult with some training, and help take down these people. I’ll do my best to not let them kill you, and my best is pretty good. But I would not for a second think any less of you if you told me you couldn’t do it. Either way, you’re an impressive dame, Darcy Lewis.”

 

Darcy forced her lips up into a wavering smile. It was hard to flip out when Captain America was sitting next to you, promising to keep you safe. Not that that was the whole reason why she felt her heart steadying. There was something about the look in Steve’s eyes… Darcy drew in a deep breath. “I just wasn’t expecting to encounter him today. I just wasn’t -- I wasn’t ready. I’ll do better when I’m ready.”

 

“I think you did great.” Steve’s voice had hardened to a more commanding tone, and she looked up at him. “You sold our cover… You didn’t fall apart until you had the space and it was safe to do so, and you may have saved the mission. There’s a strong possibility that Alexei was sent to figure out if you might have been a government plant and to make sure you were the Darcy Lewis he remembered. Criminal syndicates don’t normally trust lambs coming back into the fold.”

 

Darcy slowly sat up and leaned her head against the desk. “No. That’s what I’m worried about. It seemed… easy.”

 

“It did to me, too. Barton and Romanov are on it -- they’ve got connections to that world that I don’t want to know about. They should be able to let us know one way or the other.” Steve rubbed a hand over his eyes. “But I know already -- we can’t let our cover slip for a second. They’re going to be watching us like hawks, waiting for us to slip up. I’m sorry I might have been a little cold -- you know, for a fiance -- in the cab. I was just -- trying to get my head on straight.”

 

“And then I lost it,” Darcy said, chuckling. “Oh boy. I’m sure you feel really secure now.”

 

“I do, actually,” Steve said.

 

“What? Are you psychotic or something?”

 

“No. I’ve read the files on you -- the ones they gave me. I knew you were strong, but you were taking everything really well. A little too well.”

 

“Better I crack now than later, is that what you’re saying?”

 

Steve’s mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Well -- that’s half-right. I’m just glad that now I know you can handle yourself when you need to -- and that you’re human. I was a little worried before that you might out super-hero me.”  

 

Darcy shoved at his arm ineffectually. “Well, you’re just a freaking knight in shining armor, aren’t you?”

 

“No,” Steve said, “just a kid from Brooklyn who got really, really lucky.”

 

Darcy threw her head back and laughed. “You say the sweetest things.”

 

“Only to the dames who deserves them.”

 

“I love that you legitimately say dame,” Darcy said, and she risked laying her head against his chest when he drew her in for a hug. Was his chest actually made of steel? It might have been her adrenaline-addled brain, but she could have sworn Steve's heart was beating loud and fast. “In most cases, I think maybe it would be a little douchey? But it makes my stomach do a sort of flip-thing when you say it. It’s nice. It’s like -- Cary Grant charm, you know?”

 

Steve pushed a lock of her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “And I... I think I would have fallen head over heels for you, before the war. I have this thing for leggy brunettes with smart mouths and pinup smiles."

 

Darcy tried very hard not to let her jaw drop. “What are you saying right now?”

 

“I’m saying I like your face.” Steve grinned. “It’s interesting. It’s not quite --” he reached out, and one finger traced the bridge of her nose “-- it’s not quite even, but it’s still… arresting. And you’ve got… well, in the Army we would have said balls of steel, but…”

 

“I will take that in the spirit it’s meant in.” Darcy knew her face was as red as Steve’s was. Which was… pretty red. “Thank you. In the spirit of confession, I uh -- I very much look forward to kissing you. _For real_ kissing you, I mean, with tongue and stuff. To sell our cover, of course.  I’m a professional. I just thought you should know.”

 

“I am too.”

 

Darcy set her shoulders. “Okay, then.” Then she cupped his jaw, and leaned in close, and kissed him.

 

And his hand was in her hair, his fingers holding onto her scalp with the gentle firm pressure she always craved, and his other hand was resting near the curve of her breast as he drew her closer, the smooth bastard, and his tongue flirted with the edge of her lips and she closed her eyes because looking into his blue ones was too much like letting him look into her soul, as stupid as that sounded, and she kissed him for long, blissful seconds.

 

And he kissed her back, reluctant to let her go, let her breathe. But he did, after a while, and they stared at each other for several moments before Darcy drew in a shuddering breath.

 

“Oh shit. This just got interesting, didn’t it?”

 

Steve didn't looked as shell-shocked as she thought he might have. He swept his thumb across her cheeks. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said softly.

 

A knock disturbed their peace. “Is everyone alright in there?” Barton called.

 

“Yeah, I think we’re good,” Steve said loudly enough for Barton to hear him through the door, slowly releasing his hold on Darcy. A mischievous smile spread slowly across his face, and not for the first time, Darcy thought that perhaps Steve hadn’t always been the straight arrow he had to be because he was Captain America.  

 

“We’re going to have to talk about this,” he said softly.

 

“I don’t think now is the appropriate time,” Darcy said, as Barton banged on the door again.

 

“No,” Steve said, “but soon.”

 

“You two some come out here,” Barton said, “we’ve got information for you.”

 

"Be right there," Steve said. Darcy moved to leave, but Steve grabbed her hand and tugged her close again "I don't know where you came from Darcy Lewis, and you don't know how strange it is for me to feel this way,  but you're crazy if you think I'm just going to let you kiss me one time and walk away."

 

And then Steven Rogers kissed  _her_ \-- a deep, toe-curling, panty-melting kiss. A kiss with intent. And when he finally let go, Darcy was back to feeling unsteady again.

 

"Come  _on_ _!"_ Barton shouted. "What are you doing, making out in there?" Clint clearly thought he was hilarious. 

 

"Oh yeah," Darcy shouted back sarcastically, wiggling her eyebrows at Steve. "I was just about to tap that, too." 

 

Steve snickered, and took her hand. "Come on, doll. Let's go see what SHIELD has to say."

 

"Oh yeah," Darcy said, chuckling. "We're back to that 'my family wants to kill me' thing, huh?"

 

"Reluctantly," Steve said, and then he actually winked, and led her out the door, not relinquishing her hand until they were nearly at the conference room where the briefing was to take place. 

 

“Since I am now the official liaison for all Avengers- related missions, I will be handling this case from now on, under the direct supervision of Director Fury. All of the other people here should know who I am, since I’ve been their handler for the past few months,” Agent Sitwell said, as Barton, Steve and Darcy entered the room. Natasha was already there, waiting for them. 

 

“Wait.” Darcy, who was sitting right next to Steve, held up a hand. “I thought Coulson was going to be driving this train.”

 

“Agent Coulson’s personal attention was required on other matters.”

 

Natasha snorted and Steve shot her a look, but didn’t question her doubt. “That’s fine, Agent Sitwell. What have you three discovered?”

 

“Apparently SHIELD underestimated how interested the Lewis family was in locating their only daughter,” Sitwell said, sheepishly. He waved a hand over the middle of the table, and a screen emerged from the middle of the table. “Within twelve hours of SHIELD lifting its most minor protections from Miss Lewis’s identity, her general location in New York was leaked by unknown informants to this man --” a photo appeared of a wild-eyed looking man, with scraggly gray hair. He wore a patch over one eye and a jagged scar ran from one side of his face clear to the other, “-- street name Snatch. NYPD has been watching him for a while, suspecting him of distribution, but they lack any solid evidence to move forward. He may not look like much, but he’s apparently got a direct line to the Lewis family hierarchy.”

 

“Because Alexei was in New York within six hours,” Natasha said, picking up the briefing. “As far as my sources inside the Russian mob can tell, there was some concern among the higher-ups in the Lewis cartel that her reappearance after so long an absence could have something to do with the FBI’s recent relaunch of a RICO investigation into their holdings.”

 

“But I’m not connected with the FBI,” Darcy said weakly.

 

“No. And SHIELD has managed to bury most of your connections to us,” Agent Sitwell said pleasantly, “the sole exception being Captain Rogers, of course. With the manner you left your family in mind, we thought you dating an ex-military SHIELD consultant wouldn’t completely shock your parents. For the moment, you may tell your parents that you work at a law firm here in town.”

 

“It seemed like Alex had information on Steve, too. Is he safe?” Darcy demanded.

 

“There have been a number of internet searches for a Steve Rogers who consults with SHIELD,” Barton said, tapping the screen so Darcy could see a list of IP addresses, “but it’s nothing more strenuous that what we normally experience when we set up an asset inside an organization. They won’t be able to find anything we don’t want them to find. Or so IT assures me.”

 

“His identity is secure, as is his actual address. And yours, Miss Lewis,” Sitwell practically beamed at them. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to step up the charade much faster than anticipated.” Sitwell brandished a pair of keys. “We have every reason to believe that you two will be under twenty-four hour surveillance until this weekend. In order to protect your real location and identities for after-mission security, you will be sharing a townhome. I am assured it has been decorated in an acceptable manner for the two of you. It is currently not bugged, though, of course, we cannot guarantee that security in the future.

 

“You may remain here until five o’clock today, Miss Lewis, since the law offices of Frumpton and Brainard have an office here, which is where you will be working officially, but after that we must insist that you head to the safe house.” Sitwell smiled. “Congratulations, you two. You make a beautiful couple.”

 

Darcy and Steve shared a look.

 

“Wait.” Steve stood up. “What if we want out?”

 

Sitwell shook his head, his pasted-on smile never fading for a second. “I’m afraid that at this point, backing out might be even more dangerous for Miss Lewis. After so many years of being under, if she were attempt to escape again under less-than-controlled circumstances, we could not guarantee her safety.”

 

“You can’t guarantee her safety now.” Steve wasn’t shouting, but he wasn’t calm.

 

Darcy laid a hand on his arm. “Steve, it’s okay.”

 

“This has got to be one of the most harebrained, ill-conceived, ill-thought-out plans I’ve ever participated in, and I parachuted into Nazi Germany without back-up.”

 

“Captain Rogers,” Natasha said quietly, “if I could speak to you for just a moment.”

 

Steve drew in a deep breath, and nodded. Natasha stood up quickly and gestured for him to precede her out of the room. Natasha shoved him into a random office and closed the door.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked seriously.

 

“What? I’m fine, I’m okay.”

 

“Okay, good. Because I would hate for you to be taking a relatively untrained junior agent into a dangerous situation if your head wasn’t on one-hundred percent absolutely straight.” Natasha’s eyes never left his.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“She’s a beautiful, busty brunette with an attitude that goes for miles.” Natasha shrugged. “She’s just your type, isn’t she?”

 

“Are you suggesting I’m…”

 

“Thinking with your little brain?” Natasha shook her head. “I would never. But I would suggest that perhaps, if you would like to snap out of this protective-bear thing you’ve got going on and treat her like a professional, at least in front of superiors, that might be a good idea. Listen -- I would be the very last person on Earth you should listen to about not falling in love on assignment.”

 

“Natasha. I’ve known her less than twenty-four hours.”

 

“But it’s there. I can see it in your eyes. It’s like you’re seeing in color for the first time, and believe me,” she reached out, touched his arm. “I get that, I really and truly do. But you’ve got to keep it under wraps and under control. You’re the best person to do this job. Don’t risk Darcy’s safety because they might think that your judgement’s been compromised.”

 

“You’re right.” Steve clenched and unclenched his fists.

 

“Okay, so. We’re going to go back in that briefing. And then once we’re done, you and Darcy need to work this out. Set some boundaries -- or not. But don’t let the lines between real and fake get too blurred, if you can. And please try to ignore that I’m asking you to do the impossible.” Natasha smiled. “You’re Captain America. You specialize in the impossible, right?”

  
Steve sighed. “Right.”


	4. Target Practice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Darcy are watched everywhere they go...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve gives Darcy the same gun that I shoot on a regular basis. It's good for women with small hands, and I like a lot of its features. A+, would highly recommend, if you're into target shooting.

Steve came back into the briefing steadier, which was good, Darcy thought, because her brain was still running at ninety miles an hour and she really needed him to be steady and absorb the information that Sitwell was providing for them. She hadn’t really heard much beyond the fact that they’d be moving in together.

 

“Okay,” Steve said, after Sitwell had finished telling them about their fake lives. “Just tell me one thing.”

 

“Certainly, Captain Rogers, as long as it’s within my realm of knowledge,” Agent Sitwell said with another of his soulless smiles.

 

“Do you have an exit strategy for this?” He didn’t look at Darcy. “I mean -- what happens if something goes wrong and we need to get out? What happens to Darcy then?”

 

Sitwell shrugged. “If something goes wrong and the mission needs to be aborted, then ultimately the choice would be up to Miss Lewis, but of course, relocation and reidentification would be on the table.”

 

Bells went off in Darcy’s head. “Wait. What does that mean?”

 

“A more… complete version of witness protection,” Sitwell said calmly. “A whole new name, a whole new life, Miss Lewis.”

 

“But I couldn’t come back to New York, is what you’re saying.”

 

“Indeed. That would be foolish, at best,” Sitwell said.

 

“But I wouldn’t have to do that. I could still come back here and live my life.” Under the constant threat of cartel execution, Darcy finished in her head.

 

“No, you certainly wouldn’t have to, but I think SHIELD would prefer the method that leaves your security in the least amount of doubt.” Sitwell waved a hand. “But we’re speaking in hypotheticals. I have every confidence in your ability to complete the mission at hand, Captain.”

 

Darcy tapped a fingernail on the table. “Okay, then. Is there anything else we should know?”

 

Sitwell shook his head. “I think I’m all wrapped up here.”

 

Natasha and Clint shook their heads when Darcy looked at them. “Good,” Darcy said. “I think I need ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.”

 

Natasha nodded. “We’ll give you the room.”

 

Steve looked at her with some concern, but he got up and left with everyone else, letting her know that he would be just down the hallway when she was ready for him.

 

Darcy hadn’t been close with her mother since she was sixteen, and she had no siblings. What she did have, though, was a best friend who she would follow to the ends of the Earth. Though she could occasionally get too lost to science to function in the real world, Jane Foster had always had her back when she needed someone to talk to. Jane was also one of the few people who knew much of anything about Darcy’s life had been like at home, and she was the only person in the world Darcy could think of that would understand her current predicament.

 

It seemed like the phone would never stop ringing, but eventually, Jane Foster’s voice came across the speaker. “Darcy?”

 

“Hey, Jane. What’s new?”

 

“Nothing. It’s boring without you here.” Jane sounded almost cheerful. “Also, I’m hungry.”

 

“Don’t flatter me. You’re having so much sex with your lightning god, you don’t even realize I’m gone. And you probably forgot to eat,” Darcy said, feeling a rush of familiarity… it was good that some things never change. “There’s a candy bar in your desk drawer -- or there should be, if your intern is following the very specific notes I left for him.”

 

“Ah ha! You’re a genius, Darcy.”

 

“Thanks,” Darcy’s chin didn’t waver. Not even a little bit. “You should go get something real to eat, though. That sugar won’t last you more than an hour or so. Protein, Jane.”

 

“There’s peanuts in this,” Jane said, her voice already half-distracted.

 

“You must be making progress, if this is how you’re behaving.”

 

“I think -- I think I might be on the cusp of something, yeah,” Jane said, “but what about you? It’s not Saturday. Is it? If it is, I lost a few days there…”

 

Darcy looked at her cell phone. “No, it’s Tuesday, Jane. Seriously, come up for air, babe. Check the internet. Read a paper.”

 

“Really?” Jane sighed. “I suppose I wasn’t too far off, then.” Darcy could tell that Jane’s whole attention was on her now. “What’s going on? You don’t ever call outside of our schedule unless something’s wrong.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. I’m just -- I’ve got some work stress going on, that’s all.”

 

“Some work stress?” Jane sounded concerned. “What does that mean?”

 

“I can’t actually be very specific about it,” Darcy said on a sigh. “It’s one of those SHIELD things.”

 

“Dicks,” Jane said under her breath.

 

“Yeah, they totally are,” Darcy said, chuckling. “Well, most of them. There are some exceptions. I just -- I wanted to hear your voice.”

 

“Well, whatever it is, you’re going to kick its ass, okay? Because that’s what you do. You tazed the God of Thunder. Nothing fazes you.”

 

Darcy took off her beanie and ran a hand through her hair. “That’s true.”

 

“What else?”

 

“I kissed a…” Superhero. Walking wet dream. Hotass. “Coworker.”  

 

“Oh…” Jane sounded remarkably like a thirteen year old girl. “What’s he like? Did he taste good? Was it a good kiss?”

 

“He’s… impressive. He tasted better than I did. And… you could say that. It registered on the Richter Scale.”

 

“Mmmm.” Jane’s hum was knowing. “Gotta love a good earth-shattering kaboom of a kiss.”

 

Darcy laughed. “You’re such a dork, Jane. But I shouldn’t worry about it, because I don’t think it’s going to happen again.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Because we should probably concentrate on not getting killed. Because it’s hard to know what’s real and what’s for our cover. Because he had perfect blue eyes. “It’s complicated.”

 

“Pssssssh.” Jane was clearly munching on the candy bar now. “What’s all this? You don’t normally get like this over a guy.”

 

“A blip,” Darcy said, already feeling steadier. “I guess I just forgot that I’m awesome for about a minute and a half. I just got… scared.”

 

Jane  hmmed. “Do I need to be worried about you?”

 

“No,” Darcy said firmly. “Don’t be worried about me. You’ve got big stuff on the horizon. Literally. Thor’s huge.  Don’t forget to eat while you’re having all that sex. I should get going.”

 

“Okay,” Jane said, but she sounded reluctant to let Darcy go. “Are you sure?”

 

“I’m sure. I’ll try to call you on Saturday, but I’m supposed to go to this thing --” at my parents’ house, who may or may not want to kill me, “-- but I’ll definitely Facebook you.”

 

“Okay…” Jane sighed. “I’m going to worry about you anyway. Stay safe out there, Darcy.”

 

She was done crying for the day, she decided right then, and swallowed the tears that threatened her eyes, just because her friend was worried about her. “Thanks, Jane.”

 

“Bye, Darcy.”

 

“Bye, Jane.”  

 

Darcy hung up the phone and wiped the tears from her eyes. Setting her shoulders, she pushed her chair away from the table and stowed her phone in her bag. She pulled her compact from her bag, and deciding there was no hope without washing her face, she left the conference room behind her.

 

**

 

As soon as she appeared in the reception area where Steve was waiting, he got to his feet. It struck her again, right in the pit of her stomach, how attractive he was. She couldn’t say enough about his body -- even in in his t-shirt and jeans, it was evident that he was cut from a whole different kind of stone. But what really got to her was how they hadn’t known each other very long at all, but he had her back every step of the way, that he’d sat on the floor of the elevator with her, let her talk about Mallory. That he cared. About her. And would put his life on the line to protect hers.

 

“Listen, I think we need a change of pace,” he said, crossing the space between them, interrupting Darcy’s train of thought. “We need, just for a couple of minutes, to think about something else.”

 

“Okay, I’m in,” Darcy said. “I’m really kind of sick of being a basket case, so. Un-case me, Captain! What’s on the docket? Pizza and beer?”

 

Steve’s mouth lifted in a smile. “I was thinking of something a little different…”

 

**

 

“This is a terrible idea,” Darcy said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I can’t begin to tell you how awful an idea this is.”

 

“It’s going to be fine,” Steve said, in his reassuring-war-Captain-voice.

 

Darcy fiercely shook her head. “Listen, if you read my file you know this is a bad idea…”

 

“This isn’t a bad idea. This,” Steve said, attempting to handing her a small handgun and a magazine, “is a Ruger SR9C, and it’s yours.”

 

“Whoa.” Darcy lifted both of her hands up in protest. “You know how everyone else at SHIELD carries a gun and I don’t?  I don’t think you really want me to carry a gun.”

 

“You weapons-qualified…. barely,” Steve said, not backing down. “You tased Thor.”

 

“Yes. I tased him!” Darcy lifted a finger. “Tasing is fixable! You pee your pants, you have a chuckle in the emergency room, all is forgotten, ha ha ha. You shoot somebody and that’s a motherfucking lifelong ailment. My weapons instructors decided to pass me based on my ability to use alternate weapons to defend my life.”

 

Steve lifted an eyebrow. “I’m aware.”

 

“Look, all I’m saying is I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

 

Steve sighed, and Darcy could practically taste his impatience. “Look, I respect your point of view. But two things: One, you’re my back-up in there. I’m Captain America, but I’m not, entirely, indestructible, and just because I can survive something doesn’t necessarily mean I wouldn’t like to avoid being mortally wounded. Two: You tase someone -- someone like me, or someone on Extremis and it’s not going to do you much good. You shoot someone on Extremis, it might buy you some time. And we’re both going to make it out the other side of this mission, Lewis.”

 

“When you say it like that, I absolutely, one hundred percent believe it. I can’t imagine that no one wanted to follow you into Germany.”

 

Steve chuckled. “That’s a story for another time. Okay, so. Load.”

 

Darcy remembered this part of her training well. The officer in charge of her particular class had made the recruits do the assembly and disassembly of standard-issue hand-guns a thousand and one times.

 

“Not bad,” Steve allowed her. “You could probably do that well enough in the dark. We’ll practice every night.”

 

“We will?”

 

“Yep. Muscle memory. I would like for you to be able to do that in your sleep, if it all possible.”

 

“Wait. Who’s coming to get me in my sleep?”

 

Steve shrugged. “You just never know.”

 

“You know, you sound an awful lot like Agent Romanov right now.”

 

“She makes an awful lot of sense a good percentage of the time,” Steve said. “Shoot the target, whenever you’re ready.”

 

“Yes sir,” Darcy muttered. “How is this supposed to be distracting me from my life, anyway?”

 

“Concentrate,” Steve said, not budging. He stepped in behind her, adjusted her stance ever-so-slightly. “Breathe, and aim.”

 

The air cracked with the noise of a bullet ripping from the gun. Even though Darcy had fired the weapon, she couldn’t stop her eyes from shutting. She did, however, manage to control the weapon’s slight recoil.

 

“Not bad.” Steve didn’t need to bring the target closer to gauge her shot. “You’re right of center mass by a bit, but you might have taken out his dominant arm.”

 

“That’s good to know.”

 

“Deep breath in, Darcy-doll,” Steve said, and he stepped in even closer so that she could feel the warmth radiating off of his body -- either she was super-sensitive to it, or the man was practically a furnace. “Aim and fire.”

 

Another shot echoed through the room. “Dammit,” Darcy said, adjusting her glasses. “High.”

 

“And right,” Steve added. This time he didn’t have to move hardly at all to adjust her. “And again.”

 

She fired round after round -- hitting the target for the most part, but not the sweet spot they taught all agents to aim for -- center mass. Steve was endlessly patient with her, and Darcy found herself lost in the simple rhythm of it, aim and fire, aim and fire -- hit the target until the chamber clicked, and then reload and do it all over again. There was something soothing about it, in an odd way, and Steve was so… military and precise about it all that there wasn’t room to panic or think about what her life was slowly becoming.

 

After a time, Steve tapped her on the arm. “I think that’s enough for today.”

 

“What do you think, soldier? Am I good enough to be your back-up?”

 

Steve nodded. “You’ll get there.”

 

Darcy rubbed her hands together. . “I forgot how much that tends to make everything…. vibrate. And then there’s the soreness. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to move my arms tomorrow.”

 

Steve watched Darcy disassemble the gun patiently, and he waited until she had the weapon stowed safely away in its case before he cleared his throat.

 

“I uh -- I don’t want you to think I’m lecturing you or anything….”

 

Darcy scoffed. “Please. Who wouldn’t take a lesson in marksmanship from Captain America?”

 

“Just -- do me a favor. I can understand being a bit squeamish. But when it comes right down to it -- when it really is your life, or the life of the other guy. Quit pulling right. Aim for center mass, put him down.”

 

Darcy looked at the ground. “I probably won’t ever be in that situ --”

 

“Put him down. Or her. I’m serious now, Darcy, as serious as the day as long. When it comes right down to it, on the balance scales, your life -- that outweighs the value of the life of whatever moron has decided to risk your wrath, okay?”

 

“Yeah. Of course. I mean… yeah. You know I’m taking this seriously, right?”

 

“I know.” Steve shrugged. “And I also know it’s your first time out in the field. And I also know that we’ve got… well. Something going on between the two of us. And I know that it’s your family. I just think -- there’s things that should be real clear, that should be solid, Gospel truth.”

 

“And one of those things is put the fuckers down?” Darcy asked, her tongue between her teeth, willing Steve to take the joke.

 

“This is the word of the Lord, Amen,” Steve said, and he winked at her, and then he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead, and she thought right then that she might sink inside him, and borrow some of his strength.

 

“You’re a pretty alright dude, Steve Rogers,” Darcy said, hesitating for a moment before she wrapped her fingers around his.

 

“Do you still buy a dame a slice when you think she’s swell?” Steve asked her, squeezing her hand.

 

The world was going to shit, Darcy thought, but there was Steve, with his stupidly perfect face and his stupidly perfect body looking at her like she hung the moon, even though she really wasn’t all that great at target shooting, and somehow, that made things… all right.

 

“Yes. Yes you do. Sometimes, you even buy her two.”

 

Steve laughed. “Maybe we should just get a whole pie.”

 

“But what are you going to eat then?” Darcy asked, laughing.

 

**

 

The little pizza place wasn’t that far from SHIELD, and it made the best pie for miles. It was favored by agents young and old, and the line in the middle of the day could stretch for half a city block. On this particular afternoon, Steve and Darcy were sharing an outside table, and just a few tables away, two veteran agents watched them as they discussed toppings and crusts, the weather, and other things two people in love in New York might discuss.

 

“They’re precious, look at them,” Barton said to Natasha. “Don’t they remind you of a young me and you?”

 

“I’m looking,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And no, they don’t remind me of that particular train wreck. I’m concerned that either Steve’s gotten very good over the last couple of months, or he isn’t aware that we’re here yet.”

 

“Nah,” Barton said, his mouth full of pizza, chomping like a horse. “Rogers is perfectly aware that we’re here, he just doesn’t give a shit.”

 

“Which is a good attitude to have when you’re undercover.”

 

“What is this?” Barton fairly crowed. “Are you… worried? They’re going to be just fine, Mom.”

 

“How do you know he knows we’re here?”

 

“Because he’s Rogers. There could be a nuclear bomb going off, but he’d still notice the color of a butterfly.”

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “You pick the oddest moments to be poetic.” She raised a finger. “Don’t make the joke about your penis being a Longfellow. It isn’t funny.”

 

“Classic comedy gold,” Barton said, rolling his eyes. “And she thinks it’s not funny.”

 

Natasha used the straw in her beverage to stir the tea granules up from the bottom. She came here for the pizza, not for the… “tea”. If that’s what this particular travesty could actually be called. “Because I have a sophisticated palate when it comes to humor,” she said.

 

“No. It’s because you’re Russian. Nothing’s ever funny when you’re that cold.”

 

She shrugged. “You might have a point.”

 

“Incoming. My ten o’clock,” Barton told her, leaning back in his seat. “Isn’t that one of the folks from the watch list?”

 

Natasha didn’t turn. She reached in her bag for a compact, and checked him out in its polished mirror. “Yuri Stanislav.” She accessed that particular file on her smart phone, pulled it up and showed the display to Barton. Nothing about Clint changed to signal the man that he was on to him, but he tracked his progress across the restaurant. The Russian found a spot on the other side of the seating area, and sat down, lifted a menu, and began surveillance on Darcy and Steve.

 

“Subtle, isn’t he?” Barton said. “He’s  practically wearing a neon sign. I hope this is the level of competence we can expect from the Lewis cartel on this mission.”

 

“Hmm.” Natasha thought that might be a little too much to hope for, but Clint didn’t always appreciate her… realism.

 

Cap looked over at the two of them, and Barton quickly signed the word for enemy agent. An almost-imperceptible nod was all the acknowledgement he got from the Captain, who took Darcy’s hand across the table and began to play with her fingers, staring in a convincing manner into her eyes, like he wasn’t perfectly aware that they were being watched by at least three people.

 

“Fucking adorable,” Barton said on a sigh, crossing one leg over the other.

 

Natasha nearly sighed, but knew that would fuel Barton. “If you say so.”

 

“What, you don’t think they’re doing a great job of selling their cover? The Captain’s better at this than I thought he would be. Say, don’t you think we should order some garlic sticks?”

 

“I am not riding in the car with you after you’ve had garlic sticks. And Rogers is doing just fine, I agree.”

 

“And you don’t think they’re cute together?”

 

“That isn’t my concern.”

 

“Oh? Then what is?”

 

“I just want Rogers to keep his head up,” Natasha said evenly. “And think things through, if at all possible.  Lewis has got a good head on her shoulders. I am not… panicked. Just concerned.”

 

“We’ve got their backs,” Barton said with a shrug. “As I recall, you and I started being an us on a mission very similar to this one. You still managed to keep your eyes on the prize.”

 

“I was trained exceedingly well. Thank God, because you could only look at my tits for several months.”

 

“They have retained their magic, ma’am,” Barton said with a wink. “It’s just now I’ve gotten used to how magical they are.”

 

“Thanks,” Natasha said. “Look, Lewis has figured it out now. And she sees us.”

 

“Good. Maybe it’ll relax her to know we’ve got her back.”

 

“Or it could freak her out.”

 

“Nah.” Barton waved his hand. “That Lewis chick is put together like a brick house. Solid from the base up.”

 

Natasha’s phone dinged, her signal that she’d been sent a text message. “Hm,” she said. “Lewis and Rogers are going to head from here to the safe house.”

 

“Sounds good,” Barton said. “If they’re on the move, we’ll be able to figure out how many of Lewis’s father’s men are tracking them day to day.”

 

Natasha nodded. “I just told Steve we’d leave first -- finish that slice of pizza. Let’s go.”

 

“Aw, dammit,” Barton sighed, and he stuffed a whole-half slice in his mouth, and gestured for Natasha to lead the way out of the restaurant.

 

**

 

Steve stood first and waited for Darcy to get up, taking her hand in his own. “I could use a little air. Wanna walk home?”

 

Darcy took a glance down at her watch -- it wasn’t quite quitting time, but then, it wasn’t exactly like they were on a strict clock. “Yeah, sure. I could use the air, too.”

 

Steve bent down and pushed the hair away from her face, pressing his lips close to her cheek. “Russian at the table across the restaurant. Two men in an unmarked car across the street.”

 

Darcy nodded. She’d made the man across the restaurant, but hadn’t noticed the street surveillance. Steve flung his arm across her shoulders and pressed her close while they walked down the street, a little bit too leisurely for the normal speed of New York foot traffic, the way any typical young couple in love might. It was a little odd, walking with him, because his stride was so loose and so free, and Darcy found herself taking two or three steps to his one. He noticed quickly, though, and worked on shortening his stride to make it more comfortable for her.

 

Soon, though, the silence was a little too much. Darcy was never quiet this long with people she actually liked, so she searched her brain for what she would be like, what she would talk about if she were actually in a relationship with someone like Steve. What would she say if she were really living with him?

 

“So uh, what are you thinking tonight, Big Guy?” Darcy pulled her beanie back on her head a little from where it had slipped from constantly looking up at Steve. “Pajama pants and a movie on the big screen?”

 

She hoped SHIELD had at least provided them with a big screen.

 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Steve said. “It’s been a long couple of days.”

 

Darcy nodded. That was true for both cover-Darcy and real-life Darcy. “I think we could just use tonight to chill. Tomorrow we can take care of…” she searched her brain for something two people living together might do, “the grocery shopping and things.”

 

“Sounds like a good plan to me.” Steve stopped at the apartment building SHIELD had their safehouse in and Darcy could see him fight the urge to look up. It was, after all, not supposed to be his first time at this complex. He opened the door and gestured inside.  “After you, doll.”

  
Darcy nodded, flushing a little, and stepped inside the plush building. It was far nicer than anything she could afford on her own, and much more modern than Steve would probably select, Darcy guessed. The doors were polished glass, and they opened onto a marble foyer. Modern fixtures were everywhere. They took the elevator up to the top floor, and stepped out into a corridor with dark hardwood floors.  Darcy led the way down the corridor to the apartment number they’d both memorized. 15-C. She reached in her bag, pulled out the key Sitwell had given her, and looked over her shoulder at Steve as if to say -- well, here goes nothing, turned the key, and stepped inside.


	5. Free to be You and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Steve get to know each other better, and scope out their new apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, you have to know that without Katertots this whole chapter would be RADICALLY different. So if it's good at all -- that has to do with her gently insisting on keeping the characters in the right frame of mind. Many, many thanks to my new friend for a series of fantastic read-throughs and one awesome beta.
> 
> Thanks to Jen, for reading one of the final versions of this chapter last night and providing some valuable feedback as well. 
> 
> And now, on with the show. I hope you like it.

The door shut behind them, and Darcy breathed a sigh of relief. As nice as the building had been on the outside, she’d been a little bit worried that she wouldn’t be able to function normally in her new temporary living quarters; but whoever had gone to the trouble to stage their apartment knew exactly her style. Sure, they’d classed it up a touch, and added definite hints of Steve, but…this was her style. 

 

Big, comfy couches in the living room, beat-up but classic coffee tables in front of a thoroughly modern TV and entertainment system. The kitchen was clean, the way Darcy would have had it, but a few dishes were stacked in the sink, like they’d left there this morning. Darcy wanted to shiver -- it was eerie, being in a place that felt like she’d been there, when she had never stepped foot in this place before. 

 

“Just got the all-clear from Natasha,” Steve said, his cell phone in his hand. “SHIELD’s verified that the apartment is bug-free. We can interact naturally here, at least for tonight.” 

 

Some part of her that had been tensed suddenly relaxed. “Oh good,” Darcy said. “I’m going to go check and see what SHIELD packed for me. I hope they remembered the little things. Like, you know, underwear. Toothpaste.” 

 

Steve chuckled and gave her space, finding a spot on the couch and fiddling with the remote right away. Darcy closed the door to the bedroom and took a deep breath. 

 

“Okay, Lewis,” she said to herself, setting her shoulders, “time for big-girl panties.” She smoothed her hands down her sweater and took off her beanie. The bedroom led through to an ensuite bathroom. A quick check of the drawers proved that SHIELD had, at the very least, remembered toothpaste. There was her brand of face wash, and all of her makeup, in brand new bottles, in spots very similar to where she had them in her bathroom at home. But next to them, and intermingled with them, were all of Steve’s things. His set of straight razors and old-fashioned after-shave. His battered old comb and hair gel. In the shower, his Old Spice and Ivory soaps. 

 

It hit her hard, all of a sudden, what they were doing -- playing at a life together. Earlier today, it had been easy, in a way. His hand in hers. The light, easy kisses -- the things couples did together to show the outside world that they were happy, and in love. That was a game Darcy had played before. 

 

But this? 

 

It took her back to being a very little girl, and sneaking into her parents’ bedroom, using their bathroom when she woke from a particularly violent nightmare. 

 

It was oddly painful, that this was all artifice, Darcy decided. If she had met Steve in the normal course of her life, she probably wouldn’t have thought to go after him seriously. She might have taken a shot, sort of half-heartedly, but there wouldn’t have been this crazy spark between them. Without the danger of their situation it wouldn’t have had the oxygen to turn into a fire.

 

 

But maybe it would have. Maybe their eyes would have met across a crowded room. Maybe he would have crossed that room and asked for her number. Maybe they would have gotten to know each other slowly, responsibly, before Steve rocked her world with the fact that he could kiss like that. 

 

She threw her hair back in a ponytail and washed her face, letting the familiar scent of her soap soothe her. She walked back out into the bedroom and let out a low whistle. 

 

“Oh shit,” she muttered. 

 

“What?” Steve appeared in the door, like she’d summoned him. “Everything okay?” 

 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I just didn’t really -- uh. Look around.” 

 

Steve turned his attention to the middle of the room, where Darcy’s eyes were focused. “Mother Mary. That is…I mean, things might have changed since I…”

 

“No. That is a _huge_ bed.” Darcy started to laugh helplessly. “What do they think we’re going to _do_? Competitive gymnastics?” 

 

“Mixed martial arts,” Steve said, his mouth twitching in shared amusement. 

 

“Synchronized diving!” Darcy was about to lose it now, her sides aching. “I wonder…” She rushed to the side of the ridiculously enormous bed and flung open a nightstand drawer. “Oh, Lord.” 

 

At the sight of the assorted, brightly colored toys, jumbo box of condoms, and bottles of lube, Steve turned the brightest shade of red she had ever seen a grown man turn. “I see that we are, apparently, adventurous,” he said.

 

“Yeah. About that.” Darcy crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re my fiancé.”

 

“Yes.” Steve nodded. 

 

“And this is our apartment.” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Darcy drew in a deep breath. “This is the only bedroom in this apartment. And we’re pretty sure we’re going to be watched like -- every single minute of every single day, right?” 

 

Steve nodded slowly, apparently content to let her take the reins. 

 

“So we’re going to have to share this bed.” 

 

“Yes.” Steve didn’t look away from her, didn’t move. “Are you okay with that?” 

 

Darcy laughed and pulled her hair out of its ponytail. “Yeah. I – I guess I have to be. Right side or left side, Captain?” 

 

“I meant what I said before -- I don’t really sleep much.” 

 

“It’s going to look bad if you’re always pacing around our apartment while normal people are sleeping,” Darcy said. “So -- right side or left side?” 

 

Steve sighed. “Right, I guess?” 

 

“Perfect,” Darcy said. “I sleep on the left. But not now, because, you know, it’s only like six p.m., and old and engaged we may be, but dead we are not, so…I’m just going to change into my pajamas. Then do you want to like, I don’t know -- watch a movie or something?” 

 

“Sure,” Steve said. “I’ll let you go first.”

 

Darcy nodded, and tried not to feel a measure of relief when she shut the door between them and changed into her pajamas.

 

**

 

When it was Steve’s turn in the bedroom, he took his time, opening drawers and closing them. When he found a selection of drawing paper in different weights and several pencils, his mouth twitched up in an almost-smile. He found the pajama drawer quickly enough -- standard stuff pretty much just like he had at home – and lost his jeans and t-shirt for gray sweats and a different t-shirt. He noticed Darcy had left her clothes from the day on the floor, shrugged, and picked those up as well as his own, and tossed them in the hamper in the bathroom. 

 

He took a new sketchbook from the desk in the bedroom and two freshly sharpened pencils and went out to the living room, where Darcy was flicking through the channels.

 

“Hey, SHIELD sprang for cable!” Darcy grinned up at him from the couch, where she’d already made herself comfortable. She was wearing a camisole and flannel pants, half-sitting, half-laying on the couch. Steve sat down on the opposite end, and opened his sketchbook. “I was thinking we’d catch The Maltese Falcon. We’re only a couple of minutes into it.” 

 

Steve nodded. “Sounds good to me. I liked that film when I saw it the first time.” 

 

They were silent, then, for a long time, while Darcy watched the film and Steve sketched Sam Spade’s big rocking chair and the Maltese Falcon on his desk. 

 

After a while, Darcy shifted on the couch. “So. You saw this in the theater when it first came out?” 

 

“Oh yeah. I used to go to a lot of pictures. I wasn’t always, you know…like this.” 

 

Darcy smiled. “I’m aware.” 

 

“I didn’t have a lot of money, but every time I got a spare cent, I’d go to the cinema, you know? It was good a way to escape reality.” 

 

“My folks weren’t around a whole lot when I was growing up. I mean, they were, but they weren’t. For reasons that seem to be obvious now. But uh -- anyway. Dad watched movies late into the night, sometimes. And every once in a while, he’d come and get me out of bed and tell me that this one I just had to watch. And I would curl up in his lap and watch movies and he’d tell me all about Bogey and Bacall and Hepburn and Tracy, you know? It was kind of our thing.” Darcy shrugged. 

 

“Sounds like a good memory,” Steve said slowly. 

 

“Yeah, it is. They’re not… they’re not always awful people. I want you to know that, going in.” 

 

“They’re your parents.” Steve shrugged. “I think -- it’s okay if you’ve got complicated feelings about them.” 

 

“It was easier, really, when I could just pretend they were dead,” Darcy said, her eyes transfixed by the stunning performance of Humphrey Boggart on-screen. “It was like I’d cauterized that part of my life. I could focus on the good stuff because I knew it was closed, it was over.” 

 

Steve wanted to take her hand. He wanted to draw her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be okay, that he would protect her, that he would save her. But he knew, somehow, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, or what would help her. Not that he had any idea what would help. 

 

Darcy got to her feet after the movie was overand turned the TV off. “I’m going to go to bed.” 

 

Steve got to his feet, and gently reached for her arm, pulled her close. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted -- well. But he settled for a hug, until she pulled away, smiling at him. 

 

“All right, Cap. I’ll see you when you come to bed. Good night.” 

 

Steve sat back down and tried to give his attention to the sketch in front of him. It wasn’t very good -- he’d been paying more attention to things like how closely Darcy was sitting next to him, and whether or not she’d like him to sit closer, or further away. Or what parts of the movie she’d been reacting to. 

 

The simple still-life of Sam Spade’s office wasn’t enough to keep his attention with her around, smelling good and being distracting. 

 

Steve sighed and gave up for the night, tossing his sketchbook on the coffee table and heading for the kitchen for a late night snack. Nothing looked good, but if he didn’t eat before he slept, he’d wake up embarrassingly starved. It took aridiculous amount of fuel to keep the machine of his body comfortable, and a few slices of pizza with Darcy wouldn’t be enough. 

 

Since nothing appealed, he decided on a protein shake, and found the ingredients to make one readily enough. Since SHIELD had been the first entity to supply him with the stuff, it hadn’t surprised him to find his particular brand and favorite flavor stocked in plentiful supply in the cupboard. 

 

While he was finding the blender and milk and a banana to add some more flavor, he was thinking about the girl in the next room. SHIELD had worked hard to make it look like they had a lot of practice at sharing a life together, and he appreciated their efforts. It was a little shocking, actually, how well their stuff meshed together, how well they fit together after only a little time.

 

But he wasn’t in bed with her right now, he thought. He wasn’t holding her close and whispering in her ear, the way he surely would be if they really were together. If Darcy Lewis truly was his girl, he’d have a hard time resisting her. After losing everything he found himself wanting to grip what he had tight with both hands and never let go. 

 

“Steve, what are you doing?” Darcy stood in the doorway of their bedroom, her pajama pants riding low. 

 

“Ah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. This, for some reason, embarrassed him, how much he had to eat, how obviously _different_ he was. He didn’t want Darcy to think he was weird. “I have to eat a certain amount of calories in a day or I’m sort of miserable. So I was just making a protein shake before bed.” 

 

“Okay.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s good to know. Wait. Were you holding back at the pizza parlor?” 

 

“I could probably eat a whole pizza and still be hungry,” Steve said, smiling. “I sort of got used to it in the war. And it -- how does Tony put it -- freaks people out. I thought you were going to bed.” 

 

“I can’t sleep.” Darcy laid her head against the doorjamb, her eyes half-closed. “There’s someone wandering around my apartment in the middle of the night.” 

 

“I’m sorry. I was trying to give you some space.” 

 

“And clandestinely eat some calories,” she teased.

 

“Yes, that too.” 

 

“Look -- I know this is super awkward, or whatever, but it’s going to be super awkward for a while, so maybe you should just come to bed, and we can try and get used to sleeping together.” 

 

Steve flushed. “Yeah, I can do that. Just a minute.” 

 

He drank the protein shake as quickly as he could stomach the stuff -- it was like drinking chalk dissolved in milk, no matter what he tried to add to make the flavor better, and cleaned up his mess. Darcy waited for him the whole time, glasses slipping down her nose, camisole riding up to expose an inch of her bare skin. Steve concentrated on not getting too wrapped up in looking at her so that he wouldn’t do something stupid. Like drop the blender. 

 

Finally, he was done, and he turned off the light in the kitchen, made sure the front door was locked and the windows were shut, and then moved to the bedroom. 

 

“That’s kind of hot,” Darcy said sleepily. “Are you going to do that every night?” 

 

Steve shrugged. “It’s habit. So yeah, probably.” 

 

“Good to know.” Darcy’s hair was wild around her face and Steve wanted nothing more than to bury his hands in it and kiss her again -- maybe say something cheesy but witty that would make her laugh, make her fall in bed with him -- but he didn’t.

 

He followed her into the bedroom and watched as she resettled herself. She took off her glasses and closed her eyes. “Come on, Steve, my feet are getting cold.” 

 

He smiled and shook his head. He’d slept with girls before, of course -- chorus girls and Army girls and even an occasional girl before he’d been injected with the serum, though Bucky really did have all the luck in those days. But he’d never done this before. He’d never climbed in bed with a girl just to share her space, just to sleep at the same time. He’d thought about it a lot, of course. He’d wanted more than just a dance with Peggy Carter -- he’d wanted what most of the soldiers in his unit had wanted -- someone he could come home to after the war. A life together, much like the one he was pretending was his with Darcy. Maybe some kids, when he allowed himself to dream that far ahead. 

 

He slipped under the covers, adjusting the pillow until it was just right. The bed was large enough that he couldn’t really tell there was another person in it with him, and he was a little surprised at how disappointed he was by that fact. 

 

He forced himself to try and sleep, laying still and quiet in the dark, listening to the sounds Darcy made as she, too, tried to rest. 

 

“You’re not asleep, are you?” Darcy asked, her voice a whisper, after an hour. 

 

“No, I’m not.” 

 

“Good.” Darcy sighed. “That’s right, you said you don’t sleep very much. You haven’t lied yet, have you?” 

 

Steve shrugged. “Not that I can recall.” 

 

“That’s good. That’s a nice quality to have, to tell the truth so much.” Darcy sighed. “Like, right now? Truthfully? I want to shut my brain up. I just can’t stop thinking.” 

 

“I’ve lived in that neighborhood before,” Steve said. “It’s not pleasant. Do you wanna -- I mean, we can just talk. About anything you want.” 

 

“Anything I want?” Darcy grinned at him, and wiped a tear he hadn’t seen before off of her cheek.

 

“Anything you want.” Steve smiled. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know if you promise to do the same.” 

 

“Oh, this is good.  I can think of some questions.” Darcy scooted closer to him. “Let’s start with the basics. Like -- what’s your favorite color?” 

 

“Red, white and blue,” Steve said dryly. 

 

Darcy chuckled. “No, _seriously_.” 

 

“Green. Ma’s eyes were green.” Steve cleared his throat. “What about you?” 

 

“I really like the color of wine,” Darcy said, her hand resting between the two of them, right there in the middle. Steve wondered if he was supposed to take it. “I don’t know that I care that much for drinking it. But I like the color of red wine. You get to ask another cause you just can’t turn a question around on me.” 

 

“What made you pick political science?” 

 

Darcy shrugged. “Expediency. I took a lot of electives and that’s what I had the most credits in towards the end of my junior year. I thought for about a minute and a half that I might like to be a lawyer. I’m argumentative enough.” 

 

“I think you would have been a really good lawyer.” 

 

Darcy laughed. “I don’t know. I might have gone over to the Dark Side -- I’m easily corruptible.” 

 

“I don’t know about that,” Steve said. 

 

“Okay. How about -- past relationships?” 

 

Steve closed his eyes, and thought carefully. All of the girls he’d ever been with were dead now. Even Peggy Carter, in a well-maintained grave in the Stark family plot in upstate New York. It was an old pain, but it was still there. 

 

“I had a girl, in the war, that I wanted -- but uh, I never made our date. And before that? Nobody serious. Just -- “

 

“One night stands?” Darcy asked. 

 

“Yeah. It was sort of hard to find the time for anything else.” Steve cleared his throat. “What about you?” 

 

“A few guys in college, a few months at a time. It was hard for me to trust anyone. And…Alexei, of course, but I told you about him.” Darcy shook her head. “He was the first person I ever slept with.” 

 

“The first girl I ever slept with was Mary Ann Williams,” Steve said. “Her mom ran a bakery that donated to the orphanage. She really wanted to spend time with Bucky. But she got stuck with me. One thing led to another…” 

 

“What do you mean she got ‘stuck with you’?” 

 

“Bucky was the one the girls liked. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me back then -- I was sort of gangly and sick all the time. I had a pretty smart mouth.” 

 

Darcy scooted even closer to him. She reached out and cupped his chin for a moment, then let her finger trace the line from his chin to his jaw. “I don’t know. Did you have this face back then?” 

 

“Basically.” 

 

“And you said you had a smart mouth? And those same gorgeous eyes, right?” 

 

“Uh, yeah.” 

 

“Then I would have noticed you, Steve. It might have taken me a minute. But I would have noticed you.” 

 

“We probably shouldn’t do this,” Steve said softly. 

 

“What?” Darcy didn’t move. “We probably shouldn’t be nice to each other?” 

 

“No. Because all I want to do now is kiss you.” 

 

Darcy’s whole face lit up with a smile. “So then -- kiss me.” 

 

Steve couldn’t help himself. With her hair spread out behind her, a smile on her face, her beautiful eyes unobstructed by the glasses she wore, the lace of her camisole clinging desperately to the tops of her breasts -- she was too much to resist. And if she _wanted_ him to kiss her -- how was he supposed to say no to that?

 

“Yes ma’am,” he said, turning on his side, “but you’re too far away from me to kiss you properly.” 

 

Darcy turned on her side, too, and snaked her body closer until there was hardly an inch between them. “Close enough, Captain?” 

 

Steve didn’t answer, just wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer. He tortured himself by going slow, kissing her softly, gently.  The kind of kiss he thought she deserved. He wanted to show her that he thought the world of her, that she astonished him, that she made him feel alive again. 

 

Finally, they parted, and Darcy reached her hand up and moved his hair off of his forehead. She didn’t say anything to fill the aching silence between them, and Steve wished she would. He had no clever words for what he was feeling at the moment. 

 

She kissed his jaw and then the corner of his mouth, and Steve couldn’t stand to have her that close and not be kissing her for real. He sunkhis hands in her hair, and marveled that girls could keep their hair so soft and smooth and pulled her close. 

 

This kiss grew more insistent, both of them drawing it out as long as they could. Darcy’s hand slipped down his arm and back up again, over and over again. When they parted, they were both a little breathless. 

 

Slowly, deliberately, Darcy rolled her hips against Steve’s, and a rush of absolute need rushed through Steve’s veins. He’d been hard before, but now it was almost painful. He grit his teeth and hissed. 

 

“Darcy -- you can’t tease me that way.” 

 

“I’m not teasing,” she said, and she slowly lifted one of her legs up over top of his, so she was half-straddling him. 

 

“Are you saying you want --” 

 

“Don’t you?” Darcy caressed his cheek. It seemed to Steve that her hands were always moving, her lips always touching him in some way. “Just this once. When it’s just you and me. So we know what it’s like before everyone is watching.” 

 

A sick, sly feeling settled in Steve’s stomach. He’d thought, of course, about what being under constant observation would be like. He’d never thought about how far they might have to go to sell their cover. Exhibitionism had never been one of his kinks. And the thought of someone _watching_ what he was about to do with Darcy made him want to punch the wall.

 

“I want you,” Steve settled on saying out loud. “And I --” he shook his head. “Just -- are you sure?” 

 

Darcy’s hand slipped between them and boldly cupped his erection through his pants. “I am sure. Very sure. Steve -- I want this. Right here and right now. Just you and me. Please.” 

 

Steve couldn’t deny her anything when she was so honest and vulnerable. He wasn’t a particularly weak-willed man, so this must be her superpower, he thought. But if Darcy Lewis wanted him the way he wanted her -- then he could see no reason why he should stop himself from pressing her into the mattress and kissing her thoroughly.

 

And so he did. He pushed Darcy gently on her back, and lowered himself over her until all of his weight rested on his elbows. They kissed again, and again, until Steve slowly pushed her legs apart with his knee and gestured for her to sit up. With his help, they quickly divested her of her shirt, exposing her beautiful chest to the night air. Steve wanted to turn a lamp on and get a better view, but he didn’t want to slow down or think or let either one of them breathe, in case they decided to put the brakes on this thing. It might be smarter, Steve thought, but it wasn’t what he wanted, at all.

 

Nope, what he wanted was more of what he was doing right now. Cupping Darcy Lewis’s full breast in his hand, and watching her face to find out what made her smile, what made her sigh. What things drew the small noises from her throat that he could hear over and over again without growing tired of the sound of them.

 

He found that if he used just the right amount of pressure when he took her nipple in his mouth, her back would arch off of the bed and she’d hiss his name. He found the she liked her ribs kissed, and if he moved down her body slowly, so slowly, pressing kisses to her stomach on the way to the dip between her legs, she held her breath in anticipation, letting it go in huffs when he would travel back up again. 

 

“Steve, please.” 

 

He grinned when he coaxed those words from her mouth, and at that point thanked whatever forward-thinking SHIELD agent had furnished their bedroom, because the bed was large enough that he could slide her pants down her hips and toss them off the bed without having to get off of it. And he could kiss her inner thighs and tease her with his tongue around the edges of her panties without having to be uncomfortable at all, which only made him want to linger. 

 

Darcy cursed a blue streak and demanded that he take her panties off right that instant, but he couldn’t help himself. He was enjoying the sweet pain of smelling her, knowing she was wet and waiting for him, but not tasting her the way he really wanted. Darcy sat up and stared at him -- her hair wild and her pupils dilated. 

 

“Steve! Come on,” she whined, rolling her hips closer to his mouth.

 

He didn’t take them off. He just shoved them to one side, and found her clit with his finger and pressed gently against it. Darcy’s hips circled impatiently. 

 

It was moving too fast. It still wasn’t enough. Steve sat up, abandoning Darcy and pulled his shirt and pants off. Then went her panties -- flying across the room, and Steve set himself to driving Darcy crazy. 

  
He allowed himself one slow, long lick along her slit, reveling in the taste of her on his tongue. Her hands gripped his hair, and then relaxed, over and over again, as Steve teased her more -- letting his tongue get close to her clit, only to have it dart away. 

 

“Please,” Darcy gasped. “Please.” 

 

Then he allowed himself the pleasure of flicking her clit with his tongue, back and forth -- not quite enough to make her come, but enough to make her gasp, pump her hips, swear, demand more. 

 

Watching her face carefully, Steve sucked her clit into his mouth and teased her with a finger, circling her pussy over and over and over again, before it finally dipped inside her. and her body arched and she came, shaking and cursing and laughing. 

  
“Christ, that was beautiful,” Steve said, licking her gently as she came down. “Can you do it again?”  


 

Without waiting for an answer, Steve went to work to make her come again -- and again, and again.

 

**

 

Steve didn’t need his alarm to wake up, apparently. Not even after their marathon of debauchery the night before. Darcy definitely needed hers, though, and when she woke up alone, the space next to her was cool and vacant, she sighed, sat up and rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a little hurt, stupidly, that he hadn’t hung around until she woke up. 

 

Blearily, she reached for her glasses and fixed them on her face. She tossed the covers aside and made sure Steve’s t-shirt covered her ass adequately before she walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen, reveling secretly in that feeling between her legs that she got the morning after a long night of great sex. There was a big bowl of fruit on the counter, and she began the process of peeling an orange while she surveyed the cereal selection. 

 

The front door opened while she portioned out a bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats, and Steve, covered in sweat and winded, walked through the door. The way his t-shirt clung to his chest should be illegal, Darcy thought, and despite the fact that she thought after three rounds last night, she couldn’t possibly want more sex, she wanted to jump in his arms and have her wicked way with him. Having a sense of adult responsibility sucked out loud. In college, she might have just called in horny. 

 

“Hey, you’re awake,” Steve said, and he lifted his shirt over his head. “I’m sorry -- I thought I would be back by the time your alarm went off.” 

 

Darcy’s jaw dropped, and she swallowed, trying to get some moisture back in her mouth. Steve’s chest was impressive in its natural form, but glistening in the kitchen light -- well, it almost made up for waking up alone. Darcy decided to be mature about it and pushed aside her hurt. “It’s all right. Jesus, what did you do, run a marathon?” 

 

Steve shrugged. “I worked out. I wanted to get some energy out.”

 

Darcy’s jaw dropped. “You still had energy? After _everything_ we did?” 

 

“After I slept for a little bit, yeah. And I knew we weren’t going to have time to, uh -- do anything this morning, so, I thought maybe a workout would help?”  

 

“Steve, you don’t have to explain yourself or apologize or -- oh.” Steve had crossed the apartment and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her passionately.

  
“I’m really, really sorry, Darce. Last night meant so much.” Everything. “And I didn’t want you to think -- well. I’m just sorry.”   


 

She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t. She kissed him back, and inhaled his scent. It was sweaty and gross and -- perfect. 

 

“You should shower, soldier.”  

 

A knock on the door stopped Steve from going back into the bedroom. “You want me to get it?” 

 

“Yeah. I’ll just stay over here, pantsless,” Darcy muttered. 

 

Steve checked the keyhole and sighed. “It’s Sitwell,” he said in a low voice. 

 

“Oh.” Darcy wanted to duck behind the cupboards, but she stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding at Steve. 

 

He opened the door to expose Sitwell wearing a FedEx uniform. “I’ve got a delivery here for a Captain Rogers?” 

 

“That would be me,” Steve said, and he took the small package and signed Sitwell’s receipt for it. “Thanks, sir.” 

 

“What’s SHIELD sending us now?” Darcy asked. 

 

Steve shrugged and ripped open the paper, exposing a blue velvet jewelry box. “Oh.” 

 

“I -- I guess that makes sense. We can’t be engaged without a ring, right?” Darcy asked. 

 

Steve crossed the short distance to the kitchen and popped the box open so they both could look inside. “Whoa. That is…something.” 

 

Diamonds sparkled all along the band, surrounding an even larger diamond. Darcy let out a low whistle. “I don’t want to sound like a total idiot here, but…that is, you know. Super sparkly.” 

 

“I guess they really do want us to fit in with these high-rollers at this party,” Steve said softly. 

 

“I guess.”  Darcy reached out, and ran a finger over the edges of the ring, holding her breath. “It’s definitely not going to be unobtrusive, that’s for sure.” 

 

Steve snapped the box shut and kissed her again, over and over and over. Darcy was shocked at first, but then she gave into Steve’s demanding mouth. He picked her up and set her on the counter, the ring next to her while he devoured her. His hands slipped under her shirt, and his thumbs caressed the underside of her breasts. She spread her legs apart and brought him closer. But just as suddenly as he started, he stopped, and stepped away, closing his eyes. Darcy touched her lips with one finger, and then leaned out to touch his. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but…what’s this all about, Steve?”

 

Steve’s hand fisted. “I don’t know. I just…” He shrugged. “I want you to know I’m not freaked out by this. I don’t want us to stop doing what we did last night. Ever, actually. If that were practical at all.” 

 

Darcy laughed.

 

“I just don’t want to lose everything we’re building here when all of this…stuff goes away.” 

 

“It’s just a ring, Steve,” Darcy said softly. “I’m not going to forget where the line is.” 

 

“Good,” Steve said, letting out his breath, “because I’m not entirely certain I won’t.” 

 

Darcy reached for the box and opened it. “Okay,” she said, “here goes nothing.” 

 

She took the rock out of the case, slipped it on her finger and stared at it. “Well. That’ll take some getting used to.” 

 

Steve took her hand and kissed her palm. “For both of us, I think.” 

 

“Go shower,” Darcy said, still sitting on the counter. She pushed him away with one hand, teasingly. “I’m just going to sit here and see if I can hypnotize myself with this thing.” 

  
Steve nodded, and retrieved his shirt from where he’d left it before he went in the bedroom. Darcy couldn’t stop staring at the ring on her hand. This was the kind of ring that deserved manicured hands and a classy dame -- not the kind of ring she would have picked for herself at all. But then -- she touched her lips, which were still faintly buzzing from where Steve had so thoroughly kissed her. She never would have picked this kind of man for herself, either.


	6. No Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Steve have a visitor.

Natasha drank her coffee slowly but steadily, while checking her e-mail and catching up on the news. Clint tended to chug his on the run out of the door, so she left the pot sitting on the warmer while she ate her toast and waited to see if he’d wake up on his own or if she’d need to go rouse him herself.

 

Finally, she heard the tell-tale sounds of Clint getting himself up and around. She glanced at the clock on her laptop, and nodded, packing up her things efficiently. Clint had allowed himself exactly five minutes to perform his ablutions and be ready to leave for the day -- which was pretty much what she expected of him.

 

“You ready to roll out?” he asked, emerging from the bathroom with still-wet hair from his military-quick shower.

 

Natasha finished securing her things. “Yeah. We’re cutting it close. Rogers is an early bird, and the night shift will want to brief us before we take the reins this morning.”

 

Clint nodded. “Have you heard anything from Danvers and Matthews?”

 

“It was apparently a pretty quiet evening. They managed to tag and track quite a few of Lewis’s men. It appears he’s staffing drive-bys nearly twice an hour.”

 

“Do you suppose he’s nervous or suspicious?” Clint opened the door for her and gestured for her to lead the way.

 

“I would suppose both.” Natasha shrugged. Her phone chimed as they walked down the hallway. Overnight agents confirming they were on their way. It must have been a boring night.

 

Clint turned around and walked backwards for a few paces.  “Oooh, you know what sounds good right now?”

 

“Donuts,” Natasha said under her breath.

 

“Donuts!” Clint said. “You know there’s that new donut shop next to my place and…”

 

“We’re running late. If you would not insist on waiting until the very last minute to wake up, we could have donuts right now.”

 

“Are you pouting? I think you’re pouting!” Clint shouted after her, as Natasha got to the car first, opened the door, and started the engine.

 

Natasha navigated New York traffic until they were safely within surveilling distance of Darcy and Steve’s apartment while Clint checked news reports and kept in touch with the agents on-scene via smartphone. Sure enough, just as they pulled into the switch-off point, they saw Rogers, running by at full-tilt.

 

“Christ,” Clint muttered. “Are we supposed to follow him on foot?”

 

Natasha shook her head. “Nope, Rogers advised of his route earlier. We’ve got agents in place to follow him through the park.

 

“Good. I wasn’t up for trying to keep up with Captain America this morning.”

 

“Perhaps it’s a good thing we’re not stopping to get a donut, then.” Natasha smirked. “Time was you would have taken that as a challenge.”

 

“I used to also jump off of tall buildings without a parachute.”

 

“You just did that last week.”

 

“I’m a changed man, Nat. I’m a changed, mature man.”

 

Natasha chuckled. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

 

They got out of the car and sat themselves down at a cafe across the street from Steve and Darcy’s apartment. Natasha’s phone chimed again. Danvers and Matthews had seen them, and were leaving for the day. She sent a quick acknowledgement, and crossed one leg over the other in the booth, watching the building as unobtrusively as possible.

 

They settled into an easy rhythm, drinking coffee, talking quietly when there was something to talk about, being silent otherwise. Whether they were sleeping together or not at the time, there was something easy about being with Clint. He expected virtually nothing from her, other than to have his six, and didn’t need to be entertained.

 

On the other hand, he was often very entertaining for her. He had a quick wit, and probably didn’t value himself as much as he should, and ever since he’d made the call that had saved her life, hadn’t turned his back on her.

 

There were worse ways to pass a few quiet hours of surveillance than with Clint Barton.

 

A few hours after he had left, Captain Rogers returned, looking like he’d run as hard and as fast as he could for as long as he could.

 

“Good timing,” Clint said, glancing at his watch.

 

Natasha lifted an eyebrow. Clint was one of the few people she knew who still wore a watch. “Good timing?”

 

“He was clearly trying to make it back before Miss Lewis woke up,” Clint said. “Whatever happened last night, I wager the Cap needed a long run to sort it out in his head.”

 

“Which could be a good thing. Or a bad thing,” Natasha said.

 

“We’ve got a bogey, Clint said, while he looked over the menu. “SHIELD vehicle, two blocks away. FedEx front.”

 

Natasha’s phone dinged and she sighed. “It’s Sitwell. He’s make a routine delivery. Something they need to sell their cover.”

 

“Ah, the ring arrives,” Clint said. “Hey, do you think the pancakes are any good here?”

 

Natasha looked around -- the restaurant was dingy but crowded, a morning rush of businessmen in suits and college students intermingling. “I’d gather so, given that this place seems to be popular.”

 

“Can’t go wrong with pancakes.” Clint waved his hand at the waitress.

 

“I liked the ring they gave us the last time we were married,” Natasha said, offhand. “Normally they go with substance over style, but it was classy.”

 

“Yes, let’s talk about this,” Clint said. “Let’s talk about how you get a new ring every time but I get the same thick band.”

 

“Styles change for women, of course. Classics remain classics for men.”

 

“You’d think they’d let me keep it, then,” Clint said, “if it’s so one-style fits all.”

 

As it always did, any talk about marriage or its trappings made her a little itchy. Natasha reached for his hand and squeezed it briefly. “Order your pancakes, Clint.”

 

He did, and he waited until they arrived to speak again, reaching over top of his short stack to tap her lightly on the wrist. “Hey.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not bothered, you know that.”

 

Natasha cleared her throat and didn’t bother to pretend confusion. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “I’m not going to have a conversation about this while we’re supposed to be watching Rogers’ back.”

 

Clint shrugged. “Not trying to have a conversation. You were just looking twitchy and I wanted to remind you that your pathological fear of commitment isn’t a problem since that’s sort of where my baggage lies, too.”

 

“Okay, good.” Natasha looked over at the street. Sitwell was exiting the building, looking proud of himself. “It won’t be long now. Rogers and Lewis will be leaving for work.”

 

“Oh goody,” Clint said with a smile. “I can’t wait to see them push papers around and answer the phone.”

 

“Appreciate the boring moments. You know they never last long enough.”

 

“Truer words,” Clint said, with a wink, and he squeezed her hand back, and focused on his pancakes. “Is that who I think it is?” Clint gestured over at a woman making her way to a booth.

 

“Yes,” Natasha said, pulling up the picture on her smart phone. “That's Marilyn Lewis.”

 

Clint took a long sip of his coffee and watched as Marilyn took a seat in a corner booth, looking terribly out of place in her designer pantsuit and two very carefully placed bodyguards. Not exactly the normal clientele for this particular diner.

 

“Well,” Clint drawled, the word lingering in his mouth. “Isn't that something.”

 

“She's nervous,” Natasha said. “Keeps checking her watch. Who still wears a watch?”

 

“Me,” Clint said.

 

“You're not a good example of normal,” Natasha teased.

 

“Well, this isn't her normal stomping grounds. Maybe she's afraid she'll get mugged in that pretty suit she's wearing.”

 

Natasha shrugged. “She's got to feel secure with that much muscle around her.”

 

“Not if she knows the Black Widow is in the room,” Clint said, winking.

 

Natasha elected to ignore Clint's obvious dig. “No. I doubt her husband knows she's here. The watch, the phone – she keeps moving between them. If he calls, she'll be in trouble. Or thinks she will be.”

 

“So. What's her next move?”

 

“She could be here to try and catch a glimpse of Darcy. It's been a few years since she last saw her daughter. I'm told that wears on a person.” Natasha shut down the quick pain that shot through her body like a lance. An old, remembered ache that sometimes flaired up with the right stimulation.

 

“Or she could be here to pass on a message.”

 

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Or something worse.”

 

“Or something worse,” Clint agreed. “You going to warn the Captain?”

 

Natasha nodded. “There goes our quiet morning.”

 

Clint chuckled. “I don't have much use for quiet mornings, anyway.”

  
  


**

 

She didn't take it off in the shower. She removed the ring briefly to lotion her hands, but for the most part, it stayed right where it most assuredly did not belong: on her finger. It was an odd weight as she swept powder over her cheeks and darkened her eyelashes with mascara. It caught the light as she swept gloss over her lips. No matter what she was doing, it seemed to demand her attention. Look at me, think about me.... Darcy gave herself one final look in the mirror as Steve rapped on the door.

 

“Darcy? If we want to be in the office at a presentable time, we should leave soon.”

 

Back into the world where SHIELD agents and her father's men were watching their every move alike. There was nothing to worry about, she told herself sternly. She'd played the good-daughter game for nearly a year before she'd left home, and Steve seemed to be a natural undercover. They would slip back in the rhythm they'd had the day before, regardless of the fact that they had changed the nature of the game the night before.

 

She opened the bathroom door and stepped out. Steve's mouth lifted in half a smile as soon as he saw her. Because her undercover career was that of an executive secretary at a law firm, she'd dressed smartly in a black pencil skirt and a beautiful wine-colored blouse. She wondered, briefly, if she'd be allowed to keep it. It made her boobs look amazing.

 

“Hi.” Steve's eyes only lingered on her chest for only a second longer than her face. Must be another one of his superpowers, Darcy thought, chuckling.

 

“Hi to you.” Darcy could see Steve was on high-alert, based on how stiffly he stood. “Is there something going on?”

 

“Natasha let me know that she's spotted someone high-up in the Lewis family organization sitting in the same restaurant as she and Clint.”

 

“Oh.” Darcy swallowed. “Alexei again?”

 

“No.” Steve's voice was gentle. “Your mother.”

 

“Ah. Okay.” Darcy looked around. “Have you seen my purse? I need that before we leave.”

 

“It's on the counter. Are you okay with this?” Steve reached for her arm, stilled her somewhat frantic searching.

 

“No.” Darcy shook her head and squeezed his hand. “I was hoping she would stay away until the weekend, to be honest with you. But this... doesn't surprise me.”

 

“If she's here, that means there's more Lewis family security here than there was yesterday, so.”

 

“We've got to be on our A game.”

 

“Yes.” Steve took in a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

 

The last time she'd seen her mother, they'd had a fight. A fight about a dress, Darcy remembered. It was the kind of confection her mother had always tried to shove her into – a little too young, a little too frilly. A little too much. At that age, she'd been self-conscious about her generous breasts. She'd felt pudgy and fat and hadn't wanted to show herself off. Especially not for a bunch of her father's lecherous old friends.

 

Of course, her mother hadn't known that she was leaving, that her bags were packed and she had no intention of attending that summer's charity gala. So why Darcy couldn't just go with it and make her mother happy, she had no idea... except that old habits were hard to break.

 

She'd told her mother she was a controlling bitch. And she'd left. And that hadn't ever sat right with her.

 

Of course, her mother was also a criminal, who made her money selling drugs to children, and sometimes, it was rumored, selling children.... Darcy sighed.

 

“Okay. If she approaches us, I can deal with it,” she said.

 

“I know you can. Lean on me, if you need to,” Steve said.

 

“Okay.” Darcy took Steve's hand and they left their apartment, locking it behind them. The ride down to the ground floor in the elevator was mostly silent, until they got to the second floor. Then Steve turned and placed a lingering, gentle kiss on her cheek.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I forgot to tell you before we left. You look absolutely beautiful.”

 

Darcy flushed bright red, and squeezed his hand a little harder as they stepped out into the bright light of morning.

 

“We can't act like we know she's out there,” Steve said softly, “so we're going to take a SHIELD car into work. Natasha's in my ear, letting me know her movements. You're okay.”

 

Belatedly, Darcy released she was shaking. Not much, but enough that super soldier Steve had noticed.

 

They walked a few blocks, Steve getting quite a few second looks from their fellow pedestrians. His identity remained a secret – not many people would recognize Captain America on-sight, but he cut an impressive figure in his suit. They were nearly to a nondescript black sedan which was clearly a SHIELD vehicle when Steve tapped her arm. “We're being approached,” he said quietly.

 

“Darcy?”

 

She hadn't heard her mother's voice in nearly seven years – but she would have recognized it anywhere. She dropped Steve's hand and turned. “Mom?”

 

Seven years had changed Marilyn Lewis. There was, of course, more grey in her hair, a few more wrinkles in her skin. She'd put on a little weight, but in a good way. She'd always been too thin, Darcy thought. She was dressed stylishly, appropriately: pearl-and-diamond studs in her ears, low kitten heels and a beautifully cut pantsuit.

 

Darcy didn't know how to respond – should she rush forward, hug her?

 

“I'm sorry about surprising you this way --”

 

Darcy took two steps towards her mother, pulled her into a gentle hug. “Mom. It's really good to see you.”

 

Marilyn tucked her head in Darcy's shoulder for just a second, and seemed to breathe her in. “It's really good to see you, too. Darling,” she pulled away. “Who is your friend?”

 

“This is my fiancé, Steve Rogers, formally Captain,” Darcy said.

 

“Fiancé?” Marilyn touched her mouth, apparently overwhelmed for a moment. “Well, your taste has certainly... changed. Pleasure to meet you, formally Captain Steve Rogers.”

 

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Lewis.” Steve took her hand, shook it briefly.

 

“I know it's probably a terribly inconvenient time, but I was hoping I could trouble you both for a cup of coffee and a conversation,” Marilyn said, reaching for Darcy's hand again.

 

“I --” Darcy looked up at Steve. “We do have to be at work.”

 

“It's your Mom. Tell Davis that there's been an emergency. My work hours are somewhat... flexible,” Steve said, smiling dryly. “I can spare some time if you would like, Darcy.”

 

“Okay.” Darcy nodded. “Just – give me a minute to call my boss.”

 

She stepped off to the side, and pressed her speed dial for Natasha. “Hey, Mr. Davis?” she asked, as soon as she heard Nat's voice on the other end of the line.

 

“That blouse looks good on you. I'm supposed to tell you that.”

 

Darcy felt oddly reassured. “Listen, I've had an emergency come up and I can't be in to work on time.”

 

“Feel free to tell Clint he's a creepy old bastard if you'd like. More people should be honest with him.”

 

“I am very sorry. I know it's short notice.”

 

“You're doing a good job, Darcy. One more apology, then quickly hang up. We've got your back.”

 

“I am. I'm so, so sorry. I can work later to make up for it?”

 

“Good. Now say good-bye, Darcy.”

 

“Thank you.” Darcy swiped her phone and disconnected the call. “It's all okay with my boss. Where are we headed?”

 

Steve smiled at her. It wasn't the kind of smile she was used to from him – it was obviously not quite his. “That diner across the street from our place. Apparently your mother has had the coffee cake there before.”

 

“Sounds good,” Darcy said easily.

 

Steve's hand found the small of her back as they crossed the street and walked back the few blocks they'd already come. Exchanging banal conversation with her mother, they talked about the weather, the traffic in New York. Anything and everything they possibly could while they waited to be seated. So long as it didn't address the elephant in the room.

 

They each had a cup of coffee in front of them, and Steve a short stack of pancakes, before Marilyn got to her point.

 

“You know I've missed you all of these years,” she said, her voice shaking a little.

 

“Mom, I missed you too.”

 

“And I'm so pleased that you've decided to come back to us, looking so beautiful, with this man at your side, but...”

 

“But?” Darcy raised her eyebrows.

 

“I want nothing more than to have you back in our lives. But I'm curious about your choice of this weekend to reenter the fold.”

 

Ah. Darcy nearly sighed with relief. She was here to gather information. It was the first test. “Yes. Steve and I... discussed it. We decided it might be easier, for me, if there are some... distractions.”

 

“Distractions?”

 

“I left for a reason, Mom.” Darcy lifted her eyes. “I can't promise that I've forgiven you and Dad everything that happened in that last year I was home. But. I'm about to get married.”

 

She took Steve's hand, felt him kiss it.

 

“I want Dad to walk me down the aisle. I want you to help me shop for a dress. I want you two to be a part of my life in a positive way. And I thought – starting our relationship up again at the charity gala – something I have good memories of, something we've always done that's been good and right – I thought starting there would be a good place.”

 

“Baby.” Marilyn reached across the table, and the two of them exchanged a hug. “I want those things too. So much.”

 

Darcy felt her eyes filling with tears. In every dream she'd ever had where she'd been miraculously able to return home, when her parents had somehow redeemed themselves overnight, it had been like this. She'd noticed right away the things that changed about her mother. She hadn't noticed the things that had stayed the same.

 

Like the lingering scent of Chanel Number Five that clung to her skin. The way she wrapped her left arm over her right when she gave a hug. The names she called Darcy – baby, darling, love, angel... The softness of her hands.

 

It was too much. It was too much of everything she'd wanted. And she nearly pulled back. She nearly told the truth – ran away.

 

“I want those things,” her mother said, “but I also want you to be safe.”

 

Darcy stilled. Slowly backed away from her mother. “What's going on, Mom?”

 

“Nothing. Nothing you should be concerned about,” Marilyn said hastily. “It's just – this weekend is about more than charity. You know that. You've always known that.”

 

“Business deals get made,” Darcy said. “Socialites get engaged, break up their engagements and generally behave badly. I know.”

 

“Yes. This year...” Marilyn sighed. “It has been a rough year for our company. Your father has big plans to get us back on the right foot. To try and repair some of the damage.”

 

“Mom, if you're worried that I'm going to embarrass you, I promise, I'm not some misbehaved teenager. I probably even remember which one is the salad fork.”

 

“No.” Marilyn reached across the table and took her hands. “I just don't want your father getting... paranoid. And worrying about you. I want this to go well. I'm afraid if you come back this weekend, it's not going to go well.”

 

“Of course, it's your home,” Steve spoke up for the first time in a while. “If we're not welcome, we won't come.”

 

Marilyn backed off. “No, I.... I want you there. It might be worse, if you don't come now that David’s expecting you.... I just, I want you two to be careful.”

 

“We'll do our best to be careful. And we’ll stay out of the way if Dad needs us to,” Darcy said. There was hope, here, that maybe the mission would be shut down and she wouldn’t have to go back, wouldn’t have to risk getting hurt again. But there was also panic, because Darcy knew what the stakes were. She had to do her best to reassure her mother that she had the best intentions. “Mom, we promise. It's going to be so nice to spend some time with you and Dad. You don't think I'm going to screw that up, do you?”

 

“No. No honey, of course not. I always thought the world of you. You know that.”

 

Darcy ignored how falsely that rang with her memories of her mother, who had never been quite happy with how she sat, or she talked, or how she looked.

 

Steve laid an arm across her shoulder and pulled her in close to his side. “Darcy, we should really get going to work.”

 

“Yes, absolutely, of course.” Marilyn stood up quickly. “I should let you get back to your lives. I can't tell you – I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to getting to know you again, Darcy.”

 

“Me too, Mom.” Darcy let herself get drawn into one last hug. “Thanks for coming by. We'll see you in a few days, yeah?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Steve led her out the door of the diner, down the street, and to the car which still sat patiently waiting for them, just as it had earlier this morning.

 

**

 

Steve watched her carefully. Just before they'd met with her mother, she'd been shaking. She'd looked a little pale. But she'd held together, and held her own. Not that he’d expected anything less of her -- everything he’d read about her, everything he’d seen had showed him that she was made of strong stuff.

 

But still, when she'd spoken of wanting her mother there at their very fictional wedding, there had been tears in her eyes, and an honesty in her voice. She hadn’t been playing a part, entirely. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

 

It hadn't quite hit him, before – that she'd been alone. She had friends, of course. But she'd willingly separated herself from her family, cut all of the ties she'd had with them. She'd been, for all intents and purposes, an orphan, just like he was. And this was her chance to have her family back.

 

Only not really.

 

His stomach turned. It seemed more than a little cruel to dangle this in front of Darcy, a fantasy that she could reach out and touch, and know that it was never, ever going to be real. No matter what the outcome of this weekend it would finally and completely sever her ties with her remaining family.

 

He was seated at the wheel, finally, steering them through New York traffic, and watching her.

 

“I'm fine, you know,” Darcy said, her eyes gazing out of the window.

 

“I know you're fine. You did a really good job back there.”

 

“Thanks.” Her voice was... lifeless. That was a good word for it. “I knew this was going to be hard, before. I just didn't realize how hard.”

 

“I've got your back. If ever it gets too hard, you know you can lean on me.”

 

Darcy did turn then, and look at him. “Who do you lean on, when it gets really hard for you?”

 

“Ah.” Steve cleared his throat. “In recent days? I don't know. Nat, a little bit. Clint, sometimes. Tony. Very rarely.”

 

Darcy laughed. “I keep forgetting that you're on a first-name basis with Tony Stark. Dude is totally cool. I mean, I imagine he's a total ass in person.”

 

Steve coughed. “Uh, yeah. I mean, I can't think of a more polite way to put it. But he's solid in a pinch.”

 

“Who did you lean on, before the ice?” Darcy coughed. “You don't have to answer if...”

 

“No. I don't like it when people tiptoe around it. I had a life before. It was a good one. I had friends, I had a mission and a purpose and I woke up and it was all gone. Pretending it never existed only makes me...”

 

“Pissed?”

 

“Yes.” Steve clenched his hands on the wheel. “So, uh. To answer your question. Bucky Barnes. That was his name. He was my friend. We grew up in the same building, ended up in the same Catholic orphanage, went to the same schools. He was my protector. Got me medicine when I sick when we aged out of the orphanage. Helped keep me afloat in some serious shit creek situations. Then the war started, and he joined up and I wanted nothing more than to follow him.”

 

“But you couldn't, because you were a 90-pound asthmatic, right?”

 

Steve chuckled. “Basically. Well, exactly, actually. Then uh – the serum, and all of that.”

 

“Poof. Super Steve.”

 

“Hah. Yes. And I got overseas, discovered he was being held by a group of Nazi scientists called Hydra. Rescued him.”

 

“Then what happened?”

 

“He died. On a mission. He fell off of a train on a mountain and I couldn't save him.”

 

Darcy reached out, touched his shoulder softly. “I'm sorry, Steve.”

 

“Anyway. Point being, I know having someone there makes it easier. So … use me if you need me.”

 

“Hey, Steve?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I want you to know, I think you're really sweet. And yeah, I'll probably take you up on that offer. And I don't have like, a super suit. I'm not a Russian super spy or an eagle-eyed archer. But I do have two perfectly good ears and if you ever want to talk about... you know, anything, I've got your back. Even after all of this is done.”

 

Steve looked at her, and smiled. And this one was real. Oh boy – it let up his eyes and made them sparkle and all of that went straight through her body, lighting her nerve endings on fire. She was buzzing with emotion – stress, worry, fear and lust. It was a heady cocktail. One that Darcy wasn’t sure she could handle at the moment, so she closed her eyes against it and kept them shut until they got to SHIELD.

 


	7. Really and Truly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Agents of SHIELD make a guest appearance here as Steve and Darcy learn more about the effects of Extremis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. A) I am so so so sorry for taking an unexpectedly long leave of absence. I am a music major and I had performances and my students had recitals and... mea culpa mea culpa. 
> 
> B) I really hope you like this chapter! Thanks for all the reviews, comments and kudos. You guys are SO AWESOME. For real. 
> 
> and C) thanks for all the follows at chi-stories.tumblr.com! It's mostly squeeing over Chris Evans and complaining about writing. If that interests you, feel free to follow me there, as well! And now, on with the show.

 

Darcy spent the morning doing some paperwork – for all SHIELD had promised that they would spend their time getting to know each other, but she and Steve had gotten to the building and looked at each other, and moved in opposite directions. Too much of a good thing, Darcy thought. Too much Steve taking up her mind. Not enough space to sort through everything that had happened. Not enough time to think.

 

“Lewis.”

 

Natasha Romanov had this habit, Darcy knew, of trying to scare the crap out of the new agents. She walked like a cat, could be as soundless as a ghost. Until now, she'd never done it to Darcy. And perhaps she hadn't done it to her on purpose, but she still jumped into the air.

 

“Jesus!”

 

“Sorry.” The Russian didn't look sorry at all. If anything, she looked slightly amused. Darcy wondered if Natasha ever looked fully anything.

 

“Can I help you?” Darcy asked.

 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you can. I wish to practice my hand-to-hand combat skills.”

 

“Oh, and you want me to come watch? Cool! I mean, I've seen Thor in action. And I have to tell you, I”ve been looking for a distraction... oh.” Darcy sighed at the expression on Natasha's face. “You didn't mean to watch, did you?”

 

“No. I've watched your father's men all afternoon. Some of them are fools. Big men waving big sticks and thinking they are badasses when they are not. But there are a few who are deadly, and know it. I would prefer, if you ever got in a tight spot, that you could keep yourself alive long enough for help to get to you.”

 

Darcy swallowed. “You mean, you can't train me to be a ninja super assassin in the amount of time we've got?”

 

“I’m not a miracle worker.”

 

Darcy wanted to laugh at that, really she did -- but she didn’t want Natasha to stab her for insubordination, so she swallowed her mirth, not exactly missing the mirth in the Widow’s eyes, and meekly went to change her clothes into something she wouldn’t mind getting her ass kicked in.

 

***

 

Steve swept his pen across the page, signing his name to the very last report he needed to turn in. Some things never changed, he decided, and the stupid amount of paperwork involved in working for the government was one of them. The Army, SHIELD. They both wanted things in triplicate. A form for this, a form for that.

 

A knock on his office door had him lifting his head. “Come in.”

 

“So this is one of the benefits of having Captain in front of your name, huh?” Clint sauntered in the room. “An office with a door that locks.”

 

“I’m sure you’ve built up enough capital with SHIELD that you could have an office if you wanted,” Steve said dryly.

 

“Yuck,” Clint said. “Just a little too…”

 

“Permanent?” Steve asked.

 

“Something like that.” Clint found a seat in one of the big plush chairs on the other side of the desk. “So. How you doing?”

 

Steve raised his eyebrows. “I’m fine. How are you doing?”

 

“Me? I’m great. But then, I’ve been sleeping with my partner for years. You just picked up that bad habit last night. Just want to make sure you’ve got your head on straight.”

 

Steve blinked. “And you came by this information how?”

 

“I’m an observer of human nature. This is the first time I’ve seen you smile in a while. Only one thing makes a man like you smile like a loon. And that, my friend, is getting laid.”

 

Steve clenched one of his hands, let it relax. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

 

“Natasha’s concerned.” Clint shrugged his shoulders. “That means I ought to be concerned. Did you stop to think this through? I mean, I can understand why you didn’t. I mean… yeesh. Darcy’s… hot.”

 

An image in perfect resolution flashed through Steve’s mind -- Darcy on top of him, bracing all of her weight on her hands behind her on his thighs, riding him, while his hands made their way up and down her torso, down her body, stroked her legs, found her clit and made her make a beautiful sound….

 

“She’s beautiful,” Steve said, and decided to leave it at that. “But I know what I’m doing. I’ve got my head on straight. I can keep her safe and… be with her at the same time.”

 

“Okay, good. Enough said.” Clint coughed. “Glad that conversation’s done with. I gotta tell you, man, feelings make me itchy.”

 

Steve laughed. “I was thinking I’d go down to the gym, put the boxing gloves on. Want to join me?”

 

“Sure. I’m kind of in the mood to get my ass kicked today.” Clint’s grin was self-deprecating.

 

“You never know. You might pull something out of your bag of tricks I haven’t seen before.”

 

Clint laughed. “Ah, there’s that optimism I’ve read so much about…”

 

Steve's phone buzzed. "Ah, I think we're going to have to raincheck, Clint. We're being called in."

 

***

  
  


Darcy hit the ground hard enough to jar her and make her clench her teeth. “Just a few more force-pounds on that throw, Natasha, and I’d be seeing stars.”

 

“A few more force-pounds and you’d be unconscious,” Natasha corrected her. “I should do more of this type of workout. It’s an interesting exercise in control.”

 

“I think my bruises are going to have bruises,” Darcy moaned, not moving from her spot on the mat. “And I’m not even going to talk about what my boobs feel like right now. Except, oh wait, I am, because I feel like I’ve punched myself in the chest about a thousand and one times.”

 

Natasha chuckled. “I think we’ve probably hit our limit today, Agent Lewis.”

 

“Okay, great. I’m just going to lie here for a little bit.”

 

Natasha’s hand appeared in front of Darcy’s face. “I wouldn’t recommend it. You’re liable to get trampled when the next team comes through to spar.”

 

“Well, when you put it like that.” Darcy placed her hand in Natasha’s strong one and let her pull her up until she was standing.

 

Natasha walked over to her gym bag, checked her phone. “Clint and Steve are on their way down. They’re going to go through a quick warm-up. It might be worth watching, just to evaluate their performance. You might pick something up.”

 

“Plus, you know. Two built guys hitting each other.” Darcy’s head-to-mouth filter wasn’t in proper working order. She coughed. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No. Don’t be. It’s a fair point.” And Natasha smiled -- like, an actual, for real smile, the most solid expression she’d worn since Darcy had met her.

 

“Agent Romanov?” A suited agent appeared in the gym. “I’m afraid we’re going to need you to suit up, ma’am. We’ve got a situation. Miss Lewis, they could use you in the control room.”

 

“Me?” Darcy blinked. “Uh, okay. Sure.”

 

Natasha walked off in the opposite direction, and the young agent escorted Darcy to another executive elevator and up to the thirty-third floor.

 

“Miss Lewis, glad you could join us,” Director Fury said, as soon as she walked in the room. She took in the large table, the screens that hung from every available surface, the agents bustling about carrying folders and speaking to each other in low, serious voices. Every single screen showed a shot of the same building.

 

“So. When you said you had a situation, you meant like -- a full-on disaster,” Darcy said.

 

“Let us hope not,” Director Fury said. “Coulson? Did any one from your team manage to get ahold of Stark?”

 

“No sir,” Coulson said. Darcy waved to him and he acknowledged it with a little twitch upward of his lips. “We’ll keep trying.”

 

“Agents?” Steve’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker. Darcy did her best to ignore the thrill that his tone -- pure Captain -- sent through her.  “We’re wired and ready to go. ETA five minutes or less.”

 

“Less,” they could hear Hawkeye say, through gritted teeth.

 

“We’re accessing the video feed now,” Fury said, “we should be able to see every move you make.”

 

“Are you Agent Lewis?”

 

Darcy turned and looked at the thin young woman who’d spoken to her in a to-die-for British accent. “Yes. Yes I am.”

 

“Dr. Jemma Simmons,” she said, extending her hand. “Agent Coulson wanted us to make you feel welcome. We understand that you’re investigating a tie between Extremis and the Lewis family cartel?”

 

“Yes,” Darcy said briefly.

 

“Do you have much experience with the serum?” Jemma asked.

 

“I’ve been briefed, but I’ve never seen the effects up close,” Darcy said.

 

“That might change. No. It definitely will change. Hullo. I’m Fitz.”

 

Darcy blinked at the Scottish man who eagerly stuck his hand in her face. “Hello, Fitz. Nice to meet ya.”

 

“Did you really _tase_ Thor?”

 

Darcy felt her eyes widen. She shot Coulson a look. She knew exactly who had told the junior agents that particular story.  “He was freaking me out, okay?”

 

“Was it the size of his biceps? Because they are freakishly huge,” Fitz said.

 

“Well, it all started when Jane hit him with her car, which…”

 

“Darcy, if you’ll step this way, we’ll brief you on what’s going on,” an Asian woman said, taking her arm and pulling her away from the overeager scientists, who parted from her meekly. “I’m Agent May. Agents Romanov, Barton, and Captain Rogers are being sent to deal with an Agent-in-Distress call in Manhattan.”

 

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Don’t you think that’s a little low-grade to be sending Avengers in after?”

 

“It’s not a normal agent-in-distress call, Miss Lewis.” Coulson crossed his arms and tapped the screen. “When we sent in Agent Ward, we were unaware his intended target had been exposed to the Extremis serum.”

 

“And he’s about to go terminal,” Fitz said, helpfully. “I mean, that is to say, the target’s body temperature is way out of the range of normal.”

 

“So he’s about to blow,” Simmons finished. “Not much we can do to hope to save him at this point.”

 

“Yeah, and Ward’s been holding off this lunatic all by himself while we all just sit here and watch. And fawn over the new girl.”

 

Darcy turned and caught sight of a girl sitting in a chair with her arms crossed, one leg over the other. Her eyes were glued to the screen. Simmons touched her arm. “Don’t worry about Skye. She’s just worried and socially handicapped.”

 

“I heard that.”

 

Simmons winked at Darcy.

 

“That’s a pretty big rock you’ve got there, Agent Lewis,” Skye said, getting up out of the chair. “Looks pretty new.”

 

“Agent Lewis is engaged to Captain Rogers,” Coulson said flatly. “Part of their… arrangement with SHIELD is her presence, whenever it won’t be a hindrance, in the monitoring room.”

 

Darcy blinked. “I uh -- I keep my mouth shut. I won’t get in the way.”

 

Skye lifted an eyebrow at her. For the first time, Darcy started to feel a little bit nervous that maybe she and Steve wouldn’t be able to sell their cover as completely as they had hoped.

 

***

 

The memorial to the victims of the attack on New York had only just been completed. It had been hard to pick a location since most of downtown Manhattan had been flattened, and then there were political arguments about who would get to design it, what elements would be in place. When all the shouting had been done, though, and Tony Stark had stepped in, the city had ended up with something beautiful, preserving the memorial wall that the people of New York had started already.

 

He had painstakingly 3-D scanned every wreath, every photo on the wall, every knickknack and in-memory-of card, and collected the names of all of the victims, what their families wanted to be known about them. And then, in the place of that wall, he’d erected a hologram -- nearly fifty feet long and six feet high. All along its surface, the names of the victims flashed. Their pictures, their lives.

 

Steve had gone to the unveiling as Captain America, standing with Tony and Natasha and Clint, somber-faced, while the people of New York paid their respects. It was a huge loss to wrap his head around. They’d saved the lives of many, of course. They’d done everything they could. But they hadn’t saved the lives of everyone.

 

He’d learned in the War that he wasn’t invincible -- he could fail. He could fail on a grand scale. It didn’t make this particular failure any less of a sting, though. Some people blamed the Avengers, some people praised them.

 

Like his Ma always said: It is what it is. He’d done everything he could that day -- they all had. And being taken to task for his failures, while that was never fun for him, was at least deserved.

 

All in all, the memorial wasn’t his… favorite place. But he didn’t want to see it destroyed. He checked the fancy tablet Stark had given all of them and watched the security footage of the lone SHIELD agent holding back a man who was -- spitting fire.

 

He pulled the hood securely over his head as they pulled into Memorial Square.

 

“Are you ready to roll, Captain?

 

Steve shrugged. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

 

**

  
  


Agent Grant Ward had been waiting for backup for longer than he cared to think about. Not long, in the grand scheme of things. On the other hand, there were certain situations in which two minutes was an eternity, like the one he found himself in now.

 

He’d been visiting the memorial as a rendez-vous point. He’d lost friends in the Battle, and it was a touchstone for many New Yorkers. He didn’t give the thought that it could be a trap when he got the call from one of his informants any degree of weight.

 

He’d regret that, later on. In spades. Still, he’d managed to clear the area while he exchanged bullets and fireballs with Barry O’Malley.

 

Barry had been on the watchlist for a while. He had powers -- enough juice in his body to light a match; electricity went haywire around him. And, like SHIELD had asked, he’d managed to keep a low profile. Grant had been his handler, and he hadn’t had any worries.

 

And then he’d met Barry at the memorial, and he’d known immediately that something was wrong. His eyes were wild. He seemed panicked, paranoid.

 

“Did you bring anyone with you?” Barry asked immediately.

 

Grant deliberately stuck his hands in his pockets, and relaxed his body posture as much as possible. If he wasn’t worried, then there was no reason for Barry to be. “No. I didn’t think I would need back-up to meet a friend.”

 

Barry scoffed.. “Is that what I am? A friend?”

 

Grant pressed the panic button on his cell phone, let his hands out of his pockets and smiled. “I’d like to think so.”

 

“Is what you’ve done to me what _friends_ do for each other? Do friends hold each other back? Or do friends…. elevate you?”

 

Barry started to slowly rise off the ground, energy crackling from his fingertips. Grant nearly rolled his eyes. All of these would-be superheroes read too many comic books. Sure enough, the crowd around them started to shriek and back away.

 

Grant couldn’t allow himself that luxury, though it was starting to get hot near Barry, he didn’t let the kid see him sweat. “That’s a new ability, Barry.”

 

“It was always in me,” Barry said, grinning. “You just would never let me use it.”

 

“No, Barry, I’m sorry but this was never in the range of your natural abilities. I’m sorry if you feel like SHIELD held you back, but that’s just not the case.”

 

“You’re lying! You lie to me all the time.” A bolt of lightning ripped through the air and struck the ground near the memorial wall. The crowd scattered and panicked.

 

Thirty seconds. Grant kept a clock running in his head. He knew backup couldn’t be that far out, but he knew he had to do everything in his power. “What’s the plan, Barry? What do you want? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

 

Barry started to laugh -- a high, desperate kind of laugh, the kind of laugh Grant used to hear in the streets from finally-high-enough addicts, an edgy relief laugh. It unsettled him. He could see the kid’s skin starting to glow with energy just under his skin.

 

“Do you think I want anything from you?”

 

“I think you called this meeting. You wanted me here.”

 

“I’ve made some friends now. Friends who showed me who I really am. I want you to stop holding people back. I want SHIELD to admit they’re stifling people with abilities. I want an apology. And I want the list.”

 

“What list?”

 

_CRACK._

 

Energy snapped all around Barry, one of its tendrils getting close enough to Grant to singe his arm. He couldn’t stop the faint hiss. He wanted to press his hand against the wound but chose not to let the kid know he’d done more than tap him.

 

“You know. You know exactly what I’m talking about! _Stop. Lying. To. Me_.”

 

“You’re upset,” Grant hedged, holding his hands up and taking a step forward. “You’re emotional. Maybe we should go somewhere else, where you can calm down, and you can explain to me what you mean.”

 

“Captain America, Barton and Romanov are thirty seconds out,” Coulson’s voice came through in Grant’s earpiece. “You’ve just got to contain the situation until they arrive.”

 

Grant started a countdown in his head as Barry seemed to grow more and more unstable. “The list! Of people like me! You need to give it to me right now.”

 

“Even if I had access to that kind of information, which I don’t, I couldn’t give it to you, Barry. Is there something else you want?”

 

“Do you think I’m joking around right now?” Barry went… there was no other way to describe it -- a sort of electric blue, his hair standing on end. Grant wondered when his life had suddenly turned into a fight scene from Dragonball Z.

 

“No. I think you’re serious. I’m taking you very seriously right now. But I’m your friend, Barry, and I won’t lie to you. I won’t make you promises that I can’t keep. And I never have.”

 

The current of electricity was heading straight for Grant. He couldn’t move. There was nothing he could do. He heard Skye’s gasp in his head.

 

***

 

Steve powered across the square, hitting the agent just hard enough to move him out of the way and take the lightning bolt with his shield. The energy, redirected, shot into the sky for an impressive height before it dissipated.

 

“What?!”

 

“I’m… Well.” Steve hated this part. “I’m Captain America. And you are?”

 

“Barry. Barry O’Malley.”

 

“Okay, Barry. I think everybody here would very much appreciate it if you were a little less… on fire. Is there anything you can do to turn it off?”

 

“I need the list, okay?” Rather than a threat, the kid looked more like -- a kid.

 

“What list?”

 

“He thinks that SHIELD keeps a list of people with abilities. Like his. Before he…”

 

“Was enhanced,” Barry said. “Before I met the people who made me so much more than what I was.”

 

“Yes, that, exactly,” Grant said dryly.

 

“Son, you need to tell right now. Have you been injected with a serum called Extremis?”

 

The blue fire-like energy was only growing in intensity. “I’ve been enhanced.”

 

“Yeah, okay, he’s being singularly unhelpful. I wonder if this Extremis stuff wipes their brain, too,” Natasha’s voice came through Steve’s earpiece. “We’re at your twelve o’clock on top of the wall, Steve.”

 

Steve nodded.

 

“I’m sure you have,” Grant said evenly. “But you’ve got to know -- we’ve encountered this serum before. It never ends well.”

 

“Old generations, old experiments gone wrong.”

 

“If the serum has been improved like you say it has, then turn this off.” Grant stood shoulder to shoulder with Steve, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“I don’t want to. It feels too good!”

 

***

 

Darcy had gasped when Steve threw himself in front of an actual lightning bolt. And she clenched her fists while Grant and Steve tried to talk sense into the lightning kid. But everyone in the room could tell that it wasn’t going to end well.

 

And it didn’t.

 

As Barry’s body chemistry grew more and more unstable, his control slipped. Darcy covered her mouth when his lightning destroyed the terminal projecting the hologram, and the Black Widow and Hawkeye dropped in.

 

Barry cackled. “I warrant the Avengers now?”

 

“We just want to bring you in safe, kid,” Steve said, and Darcy wondered if she should point out that Steve and this Barry kid had probably been conscious for about the same number of years. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help.”

 

“Where are you going to take me? A Hulk-proof cell?” Barry shook his head. “No thank you.”

 

“You don’t want to go down this road.”

 

Hawkeye slowly raised his bow and Widow raised her fists.

 

“I’m not scared of you. Any of you.”

 

Grant shook his head. “Then you’re not as smart as we gave you credit for, kid.”

 

What followed was quick, brutal and effective. Barry’s control was obviously slipping, and the blue tinge to his skin quickly became more red as he fired lightning bolts at Grant, Steve, Natasha and Clint.

 

The Avengers did all they could to try and contain him, to try and get him to control himself. And then finally to neutralize the threat. But it was hard to get close to a human who was practically a live wire.

 

Darcy felt someone take her hand as she watched Steve shield Grant as much as he could. Barry’s skin went from blue, to orange, to red…. It was obvious that it was getting very hot in Memorial Square.

 

“Oh shit,” Natasha’s voice came over the speakers. “You guys, he’s going to blow up.”

 

“Nothing we can do for him now,” Barton said, and the camera caught him putting away his bow. “We’ve got to haul ass, guys.”

 

Skye’s hand gripped hers, hard, as Barry went up in flames. It took… an agonizingly long time for the screams to stop. It was a sound Darcy would never forget.  Darcy couldn’t help it. She’d never seen anyone die so horribly before. She covered her mouth and let herself sob.

 

“Oh my God.” Jemma Simmons shook her head. “Oh my God.”

 

“Yeah, you never get used to that,” Phil said sadly. “Damnit.”

 

***

 

Steve pulled the uniform shirt over his head and threw it in his locker with all of his might. He wanted to punch something, but he knew anything he punched in here, he’d destroy. He didn’t turn when he heard the tale-tell click of heels on the concrete floor.

 

“Natasha, I don’t want to talk right now.”

 

“Not Natasha.”

 

Steve turned and looked -- saw Darcy with tears in her eyes, her hair a little wild. “Darcy! Did you…”

 

“I saw… everything. Are you okay?” She stepped forward, as though she were unsure about whether she could touch him or not.

 

“Yeah. He got me a few times,” Steve gestured at some of the red patches on his skin, “but I think I’m in a lot better shape than Agent Ward right now.”

 

“So.” Darcy drew in a shuddering deep breath. “That’s what we’re up against?”

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, sitting down wearily on the bench. “That’s what we’re up against. That’s what they want to sell to people as -- he called it an ‘enhancement’. Poor dumb kid. That’s all he was.”

 

“Okay. I just want to say that I was scared before. Now I’m fucking terrified.”  Steve reached for her hand. She let him take it. “But I’m not… I’m not going to back out. That’s just -- no one deserves to die that way. No one.”

 

“Okay,” Steve said simply. “If you’re sure.”

 

“I really am.” Darcy let him pull her close, and sat next to him on the bench. “Hey, Steve?”

 

“Yeah, Darcy?”

 

“Can I just -- I mean, I’d really, really like to give you a hug. I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re okay. Really and truly.”

 

Steve wrapped her in his arms, the silk of her red blouse smooth against his naked chest, and kissed the top of her head.

  
“I’m really glad to see you too, Darcy. Really and truly.”


	8. A House With a Veranda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Steve make the trip up to the Lewis family estate. Clint and Natasha do surveillance of the arriving guests and discover a familiar character has made their way up for the charity weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long-ish break between updates, friends! I got obsessed with Arrow. So now I'm balancing my love for Oliver Queen with my love for Steve Rogers. My muses are on a timeshare program! I'm thinking I'm about five chapters away from finishing this one out, however. I hope you enjoy the ride!

 

In bed that night, Darcy watched Steve pretend to sleep for a long while before she rolled over and fit herself against his side. Steve welcomed her, shifting so she’d be more comfortable.

 

“I could hear you thinking from over there,” Darcy said.

 

“Ah. I’m sorry.” Steve’s face was half-lit by the city lamps outside their window. Darcy had gotten used to never having complete darkness in her short time in the city. He looked and sounded genuinely apologetic. Darcy nearly sighed.

 

“Don’t worry about it. I was having trouble sleeping, too.” Darcy laid her hand on Steve’s abdomen. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

 

Steve shifted. “I used to have this problem all the time.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

“Yeah. In the war. Before the Commandos would march out, I’d go over everything in my mind. Try to think of every scenario. Promise myself I’d bring everyone back home, safe and sound. I always knew they were doing the same thing, that they had my back.”

 

“They sound like good friends,” Darcy said.

 

“They were. I picked the most solid men I could find and they turned right around and followed me into hell.”

 

“You know -- all of you are in the history books,” Darcy said. “I took a class in college that explored the effects of propaganda in the war effort. There was a section on you -- how you became more than a symbol. It was fascinating stuff.”

 

Steve blushed and shifted again. “I -- uh, I don’t quite know what to do with that information. We were all just doing what we had to do to survive and complete the mission, you know?”

 

“I do.” Darcy sat up, her hair falling all around her head in a mess. She pushed it back away from her face, or started to. Steve sat up, as well, and pushed it back for her. “I don’t think it makes you any less a hero, though.”

 

Steve wrapped his hand in her hair, and pulled her face close to his. He stopped, just as their lips almost made contact, and closed his eyes.

 

“It’s okay, Steve,” Darcy said softly, and closed the gap between them. “Let’s stop thinking now, okay?”

 

They knew each other a little better now, so when Steve maneuvered her on top of him so she was straddling his waist, she chuckled and teased him, rolling her hips just above his pelvis.

 

“Darce, if you don’t want this to go from zero to sixty in three seconds flat, you’ve gotta stop doing that.”

 

Darcy just chuckled and took her camisole off. Steve hissed when her breasts came into view, his hands reaching for them before he was conscious of the motion. He was … tender, sweet, as he took one in his hand and stared up at her as he caressed it. “Darcy, doll….”

 

His voice was low, rough. His hands were calloused and his eyes were hazy. Darcy bent until she pressed her bare chest to his, and kissed his neck, sucking the skin hard. Steve arched under her mouth, easily lifting her up. Darcy didn’t stop, nipping and licking and sucking until she’d left a perfect imprint of her mouth on his neck.

 

Steve worked his fingers down between her thighs, cupping her through her pajama pants. “We should take these off.”

 

“I couldn’t agree more.” Darcy rolled off of him and slid the pants off in one smooth motion. Steve rolled her over and slid down her body. “You don’t have to every time, soldier,” Darcy said.

 

“Oh, but you taste so good,” Steve said. And he proceeded to drive every single thought other than the two of them, moving together in the night, from both of their heads.

 

**

 

The next morning, Darcy rolled out of bed to find that Steve had already made coffee, leaving her a note that he had gone a run before they had to spend most of the day in the car. Darcy had a cup and a piece of toast while she tried to calm her nerves. Before long, though, the alarm she had set on her cell phone began beeping at her, and she knew she had to start the process of getting ready.

 

Steve entered the apartment, barely looking winded. “Morning, Darcy,” he said easily.

 

“Good morning,” she said. “Thanks for the coffee.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Steve said, and he bent to kiss her cheek.

 

“Hm, sweaty,” Darcy said, laughing. “It’s a good look on you, Steve, but you’re still kind of smelly.”

 

Steve grinned at her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “What, you mean you don’t like this?”

 

“I like it just fine,” Darcy said, pulling his shirt off and tracing his chest with her finger. “I’m just saying, you don’t smell like a rose.”

 

Steve buried his nose in her neck and made a show of sniffing her, which made her laugh out loud. “Well, you smell good.”

 

“I won’t, if you keep that up,” Darcy teased. “Then I’ll smell like your sweat.”

 

“Hm, come shower with me, and then neither one of us will smell like my sweat,” Steve said, e kissing her neck and playing with the lace edge of her camisole.

 

“If we shower together, we’re going to be late getting on the road,” Darcy said, covering his hands with hers.

 

“Will the house still be there if we’re fifteen minutes late?” Steve asked.

 

“Oh, so this is only going to take fifteen minutes?” Darcy teased.

 

“I was a soldier, Darcy, I’m all about efficiency.”

 

“If you’re going to play the soldier card, you’d think you’d care more about following SHIELD’s timetable,” Darcy said, but she lifted her hands off of his, and let them travel the pathway down her body.

 

“I never said I was a good soldier,” Steve said, and swept her up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

 

“Steve!” Darcy shrieked with laughter.

 

“Can’t waste time. Don’t want to be late,” Steve said, and he kicked the bathroom door shut behind them.

 

**

 

Steve packed while Darcy carefully applied her make-up. She didn’t often wear it, but her mother would expect it every day during the weekend. She went neutral and pretty rather than bold and dramatic, with the exception of the deep red lipstick she chose almost out of spite.

 

They hadn’t talked much about what was ahead of them. She knew part of their … exuberance with each other over the last twelve hours had to do with trying to ignore the stress they were under. She wasn’t sure how much of her anxiety had to do with the fact that she hadn’t seen her family in years, and how much of it had to do with the fact that she was reasonably certain her parents were dealing in the most dangerous drug she’d ever seen.

 

Darcy stepped out of the bathroom and began the process of packing her things, moving around Steve almost silently, the mood much more subdued than it had been. That this serum had been derived from the serum that had made Steve super-human was bad enough, Darcy knew. Steve wasn’t the kind of guy who would take that lightly.

 

“I’m packed,” Steve said, zipping up his Army duffel and sitting on the bed, watching Darcy select pants, and dresses and jeans and shoes.

 

“This might take me a while,” Darcy said frankly.

 

“Take your time,” Steve said. “Natasha and Clint have gone on ahead. We’ll be getting surveillance reports any minute now.”

 

“Surveillance reports.” Darcy shook her head. “So it’s starting already, huh? I mean, it’s been started, but now, you know… it’s really… starting.”

 

“Yes,” Steve reached for her hand. “And it’s going to be okay.”

 

“No, I know that.” Darcy squeezed Steve’s hand. “And I’m okay -- I can’t get that poor boy’s face out of my mind. I’m just not super excited about this whole… thing.”

 

“Neither am I. Except for the part where I get to spend some more time with you.”

 

It wasn’t a line. His voice was soft, his eyes were serious. And Darcy’s heart twisted in her chest. There’d been heat there, right from the beginning, a tension they’d used to cover up the stress of the situation they were in.

 

She’d known him less than three days and he already knew as much about her as any of the guys she’d ever dated. She felt safer with him than she’d felt in years, and she was about to walk into the lions’ den with him.

 

“I’m pretty glad I get to spend some more time with you, too. Besides, uh… I never thought if I ever went back to my parents’ house, I would feel quite as… secure as I do going with you. So. Thanks, Steve.”

 

“You’re welcome. I’m going to do my best to make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

 

“Same here,” Darcy said. “I uh -- I think that’s about it, actually. I’m ready to go.”

 

Steve got to his feet, swung his duffel over his shoulder, and grabbed three of her four bags before she could say a word. She locked their temporary apartment behind them, certain that she would never see it again. The first part of this odd little story in her life was over. And she would probably never get to share a home with Steve again. Never see their things lined up together on the bathroom counter, or his energy drinks next to her herbal tea.

 

It hit her that she didn't really know how much of her relationship with Steve was because she was there, and how much of it was because there really was something there. On her end, she had been initially attracted to not just his physique which was flawless, of course, but the kindness she could sense in him.

 

She stood there, staring at the door for a long moment. She didn't want to leave. In a way, she'd been protecting herself with this fantasy -- that Steve was hers, that this was a normal weekend trip up to see her parents. She knew, of course, what was going on, but in the apartment, when the reality had seemed safely far away, it hadn’t seemed so close. Except for when he’d nearly been set on fire.

 

That had seemed really close.

 

Darcy sighed and turned. Steve was waiting for her at the end of the hallway, his eyes expressive and understanding. He waited until she stood next to him and bent and gave her a kiss that rocked her to her core. Bags hit the floor, and her arms went around his neck. She nearly jumped him right then and there.

 

“Darcy Lewis,” Steve said, his voice low and so soft that anyone listening couldn’t hear unless they had bugged Darcy and Steve’s bodies. “You are a dame and a half.”

 

“Okay. I’m really ready now.” Darcy straightened her shirt -- how had it managed to get so crumpled, anyway? And walked out of the building to the car.

 

**

 

Natasha and Clint found themselves holed up in a little bed and breakfast just a few miles away from the Lewis family estate. It was a quaint little place, run by a lovely older gay couple who fawned over Clint’s arms and loved Natasha’s hair. They did their best to be quiet, and unobtrusive, and left early that morning for their assignment:  watching cars go in and out of the Lewis family estates’  impressive gates, checking the identities of the guests and compiling a file for Steve and Darcy.

 

Clint whistled as they added another name to their growing list of party attendees who also had the honor of being on a SHIELD, CIA , DEA, DOD or NSA watchlist. “This getting to be quite a list.”

 

“We knew it would be,” Natasha said shortly.

 

“Do you think this party draws such a crowd because criminal underbelly can’t help but love the irony in gathering all together to try and help the people whose lives they would otherwise ruin without a thought?”

 

“In my experience, criminals don’t tend to think of themselves as criminals.”

 

“Only because they lack imagination,” Clint said, dryly.

 

“I don’t know about that. I think it takes a certain amount of imagination not to see yourself as a dirty scumbag when you’re in the business of pushing drugs and selling little girls.”

 

“You know, you’ve got a point there, Natasha.”

 

She raised her eyebrow at him. “I always have a point.”

 

“You know, it strikes me that we could just -- drop a bomb on this place and solve a lot of problems.”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“But we won’t, because, you know -- ethics.”

 

Natasha smiled at him, and Clint was glad that he knew her so well, knew that she was pushing his buttons, because otherwise he might have been a little bit worried that his partner was a sociopath.

 

“Here we go,” Clint said. “Look at this: woman in a flowered dress getting out of the limo. Only one known name: Raina.”

 

Natasha pulled up the file. “You’ve got quite a memory for faces, but you pulled that one up quick.”

 

“I’ve been looking into Agent Coulson’s team, reading up on their files.”

 

“Keeping tabs on the old man?” Natasha sounded amused.

 

“Just making sure the agency really has his back, that’s all. That he’s got good people.”

 

“And you don’t trust his judgement?”

 

“You and I both know, coming back from the dead can shake you pretty hard, right down to your core. Make you question everything. I don’t mind working for SHIELD cause I know at the end of the day, it’s 90 percent good and I figure that’s excellent in our line of work. But it can be hard to sleep at night right after something like being stabbed in the heart by an alien. And when you’re not sleeping at night, you get careless. You get careless, you need good people watching your back. That’s all.”

 

Natasha squeezed his hand. “Coulson’s the most unshakeable man I know.”

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Clint said firmly. “You better text the Captain. Let him know we’ve got at least one knowledgeable guest at this party. He’s going to have to watch himself, or he’ll reveal that he’s enhanced before we want that information out.”

 

Natasha raised her eyebrows. “Wow. You ate your Wheaties this morning. You’re being very take-charge.”

 

“I’m just nervous. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one, Nat. A bad feeling.”

 

“Careful, love. Your circus-borne superstitions are showing.”

 

Clint flashed his teeth at her in a facsimile of a smile. “And you’re just Russian enough to take them seriously, aren’t you?”

 

Natasha shrugged, but she whipped out her phone and texted Steve.

 

**

 

Driving up to the house was quite a trip for Darcy. Steve was a good driver, of course (there didn’t seem to be much of anything he didn’t do well, come to think of it) so she wasn’t worried about her safety at all. That didn’t explain why she gripped the seat belt and tapped her feet as the surroundings got more and more familiar.

 

Houses passed by that she had passed a million times as a child. She wondered at the fact that she hadn’t been gone very long -- yet everything seemed different. And oddly the same. The same pretentious houses, far too large for the families of two, three, or four that they housed -- out buildings and stables, rolling green lawns obscured by well-manicured tree lines. Houses with names and long histories.

 

She laid her head against the glass and tried not to panic.

 

“We can turn the car around, you know. I haven’t been to Coney Island in like, seventy years,” Steve said, smiling at her. “They’d never catch us.”

 

“Oh, how about Hawaii?” Darcy asked, liking this game. “I’ve never been, have you ever been?”

 

“No. Knew some guys in the service who had been stationed there, they always said it was beautiful.”

 

“I want to lay on a golden beach in a bikini and have somebody bring me drinks with umbrellas in them.”

 

“Sure sounds nice,” Steve agreed.

 

“You’re more than welcome to come,” Darcy said, grinning. “Or, oooh -- we could go skiing, have you ever been skiing?”

 

“Cross-country, occasionally. It’s a good way to get around Europe when you’re running low on tanks. Or you need to be stealthy.”

 

Darcy laughed. “I imagine that’s true.”

 

While they talked about vacations and escaping, Steve steered them closer and closer to her family’s home.

 

“Hey, will you make me a promise?” Steve asked.

 

Darcy looked over at him with narrowed eyes. “A promise?”

 

“Yeah.” He coughed. “Listen, I know I’m presuming a lot here, but I think that maybe…”

 

“Presume away,” Darcy said, waving her hand with a teasing smile. “Make all the presumptions you want, Captain.”

 

“I think that maybe you and I could have fun together outside of… a situation like this.”

 

Darcy grinned. “Hey, what do you know? Me too.”

 

“And I’m thinking they keep telling me I’m due some vacation time.” Steve coughed. “So, I was thinking -- maybe you and I could actually… do something like that. After all this is done.”

 

“Provide me adequate time to purchase a rocking bikini, and I am so there,” Darcy said, finally relaxing. Some part of her that had been nervous and on-edge seemed to settle, which was good because they were finally within ten miles of the house she had grown up in. “Unless we’re going skiing, in which case… no bikinis. Obviously.”

 

Steve laughed, and Darcy smiled. She could handle this. She could make Steve Rogers laugh, he of the sad-eyes and the sarcastic wit. She could handle seeing her psychopathic former lover. She could handle bringing down her family’s generations-long business of providing drugs and underaged whores. She could help prevent the spread of a deadly new drug.

 

And then after that, she could take Steve Rogers to the beach and blow his ever-loving mind.

 

Her confidence was soaring as they came to a stop in the circle drive outside of the house. It was huge -- she’d remembered that much correctly. It had a large veranda, several pieces of wicker furniture placed all around it. Huge, show-stopping rose bushes lined the veranda, blooming even this late in the fall. The path to the guest house had been lit by lanterns, and the barn had very likely been turned into the dance hall for the weekend.

 

“Whoa. So this is where you grew up,” Steve said, hollowly. “I mean, I knew what they said, but…”

 

“Yeah. Please don’t hold this against me,” Darcy said.

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve said, getting out of the car and coming around to help her with her door. She almost had it opened before she remembered that Steve liked to do that kind of thing and they had an impression to make, so she busied herself getting her purse and her bag from the backseat.

 

“Thanks,” she said, and let him help her out of the car.

 

“Darcy!” Her mother’s voice came from the veranda. “Oh, my darling! It is so good to see you!”

 

“Hi, Mom,” Darcy said, walking up the steps, and then letting herself get swept up in a hug that she hadn’t exactly seen coming.

 

“I hope you’re okay with staying at the main house,” Marilyn said, extending a hand to greet Steve with a shake. “My original thought was to put the two of you in the guest house, given the circumstances, and all, but then I thought, no, Marilyn, family is family. Of course, if you prefer some distance…”

 

“The main house is fine. Thank you, Mrs. Lewis,” Steve said, cutting her off. Darcy shot him a grateful look.

 

“Where’s Dad?”

 

“Some of his friends came earlier this week. They’re out golfing. You should be able to meet everyone this evening. I think you two were some of the last ones we’re expecting. At least for the staying-at-the-estate portion of the weekend. There will be many, many more attending the gala. It’s grown an incredible amount since the last time you were here, darling. Oh, Captain, I should ask, are we going to get to see you in those lovely dress greens?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said, laying his hand on the small of Darcy’s back, as Marilyn led them into the house. “Can you point me in the direction of our room and I’ll take our bags up?”

 

“Oh don’t be silly, love, Hamish and Dusty will get them,” Marilyn said lightly. “Darcy, I’ve given you the Lincoln suite.”

 

“Ah, okay,” Darcy said. “Well, I’ll just -- take Steve up there. I think we’re both a little tired from the trip and we’d like to freshen up.”

 

“By all means, of course dear. Dinner will be served promptly at six-thirty in the formal dining room.”

 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, and she took Steve’s hand, and led him up a grand staircase that twisted up into another grand hallway that looked down on the main foyer. “The master suite is on the west side of the house,” she said, “and we’ll be staying on the east.”

 

“Okay,” Steve said. She could see him taking it all in -- the plush carpets that were a little more worn than she remembered them being, the artwork that had been dusted within an inch of its life. The house seemed tired to her, her mother just a little too bright -- whatever was happening this weekend, aside from them, it was stressing her mother and the staff. Her mother had mentioned, when she came to see them, that the family business hadn’t been doing as well as it had in the past, and Darcy was beginning to see that.

 

She opened the door to the Lincoln suite -- named such for the old-fashioned Lincoln bed that had been passed down her mother’s family from generation to generation. It was an old-fashioned bed, and the suite was decorated in an antique style.

 

Steve let out a low whistle. “Is there anything in this room that’s safe to touch?”

 

Darcy laughed. “No, not really. This is how I know they consider me an adult, actually, that they let me stay in this room. I used to not even be allowed to set foot in here.”

 

Steve walked around, studying everything, noting a few bugs and pointing to them so that she would be aware of their presence. A door led to an adjacent bathroom suite with black-and-white tiles and a claw-foot tub.

 

“So… dinner. That’s a formal thing,” Steve said. “Right?”

 

“Yes. It will be nice,” Darcy said. “And then, thankfully, we’ll be done for tonight and we can get back here and take advantage of this bouncy mattress.”

 

Steve shot her a look that said he would much prefer to take advantage of it now, and she flushed. But what he said was, “Sounds good.”

 

“Then tomorrow there will be all sorts of activities and things. It’s hard to say. But then Sunday night is the big gala.”

 

A knock on the door interrupted them, and Darcy let Steve answer it, accepting their bags from the men who dropped them off. They made short work of unpacking their things, working in tandem.

 

“We’ve got a few hours to kill before dinner,” Steve said finally. “Why don’t you take me on a walk around the house?”

 

“Ah,” Darcy said. “You want the childhood home tour, huh?”

 

“Yes, absolutely.”

 

“Okay, then.”

 

Darcy led him through corridors, talking about the various rooms in the house -- they each had names, some for a specific architectural feature, others for noted guests that had stayed there over the years. She tried to remember as much family history as she could so it would sound authentically like she was taking her fiancé around.

 

Finally, they came to a set of doors that were white with pink flowers painted on top of them. Darcy flushed and turned. “And there’s nothing to see here, so we’re moving along…”

 

“Pink flowers?” Steve moved her aside gently. “could this be the childhood lair of one Darcy Lewis?”

 

“...Yes. But I didn’t pick the flowers, okay? That was a mom thing. In fact this whole room was pretty much a mom thing, so take what you see with a grain of salt.”

 

Once they were inside, Darcy could see him drawing conclusions -- the canopy bed. The wall of bookshelves lined with dolls. The shelves for her trophies and participation awards. The picture on the wall she’d colored of a unicorn.

 

It made her uncomfortable. She shifted and waited for him to say something. “Ah,” he finally said, turning to her. “I don’t think they’ve changed anything.”

 

“No. By the end of it, I was just so -- “ Darcy searched for something she could say with the house being as thoroughly bugged as they had discovered it was, “-- without care, that I didn’t change anything. I let Mom keep the idea that I was her little princess. It was just easier.”

 

“Sometimes it is easier to let people hold on to their preconceived notions,” Steve agreed. “Especially people that think they know us.”

 

“If you’re looking for some magical insight into teenaged Darcy Lewis, though, there’s a much better place I could take you,” Darcy said.

 

“Oh yes. I’m always interested in that,” Steve said, grinning.

 

Darcy took his hand, and led him out of the house.

 

**

 

Steve had grown up in the city. Far away from this wealth and the space of the country they were occupying. He’d spent some time in farm country in Europe, of course, holed up in barns sometimes. He’d seen the ruins of houses older and grander than this. Seen priceless paintings of the same ilk that graced these walls burned and ripped by vengeful Nazis, or worse yet -- stolen from their rightful owners and preserved in banks to line Hitler’s pockets.

 

This kind of wealth made him nervous and itchy. Not that he had anything against success, or doing well. But he had more familiarity with the Stark brand of wealth, which was less… genteel than this.

 

He followed Darcy around, listened to her stories, watched her face, asking questions to try and get her to relax, although he was finding that nearly impossible since he was keyed up, too. He’d spent enough time around Barton and Natasha to be able to recognize bugs, see where they would be placed. They hadn’t made a move that couldn’t be watched yet.

 

And, as Darcy led him out of the house and through what might be called the backyard towards a large outbuilding, a security camera whined audibly, turning to follow their motion. He set his teeth but tried to smile while Darcy talked excitedly about where they were headed.

 

Which was, apparently, the stables.

 

The smell of horses assaulted him as soon as they opened the door. But it was a good smell -- he certainly didn’t dislike the animals. He’d just never had the opportunity to be around them.

 

It was clear, however, that Darcy had. She was never more beautiful than when she was enthusiastic about something, and it was clear, she was enthusiastic about horses. She spotted one she knew, and she exclaimed in delight.

 

The stablehands greeted her with familiarity and handed her a brush so she could groom the gelding she called Star.

 

“I know, it’s not very creative,” Darcy said, “but when the name fits, it just fits, you know?”

 

“I do.”

 

“I used to come out here all the time and plot my escape,” Darcy said, rubbing the giant animal’s nose with one hand. “Of course, I always dreamt about taking one with me. That didn’t work out.”

 

“Do you ride very much anymore?”

 

“I haven’t been on a horse in years. It’s kind of an expensive habit. One of the first things I gave up. Which is a shame, isn’t it, lover boy?” Darcy asked, kissing the horse’s nose. “What a sweetheart you are.”

 

Steve stepped in close, wrapped his arms around her because he found he couldn’t resist it, and kissed her neck. “I can only assume you’re talking about me.”

 

Darcy threw back her head and laughed.

 

“I hope you’re my daughter’s fiancé, son, otherwise there’s some explaining that’s going to have to be done.”

 

Steve felt Darcy stiffen, felt her limbs start to shake. He knew there was only one person, aside from Alexei, who could make her react that way. He gave her one last kiss and relaxed his hold, turning to face the man standing on the other side of the stable from him.

 

“I am. Captain Steve Rogers, sir. Nice to meet you.”

 

David Lewis was a large man, round where his wife was thin. But he had Darcy’s eyes, and her chin. He wore his three-piece suit in the stable and somehow didn’t look out of place at all.

 

“Hmph. We’ll see about that. Darcy, I’d like to speak to you privately.” He crooked his finger at her, in the manner of a parent about to rebuke a child.

 

Steve felt her reach for his hand, and happily gave it to her. “I’m afraid not, Dad. If you’ve got something to say to me, you can say it in front of Steve.”

 

It was clear, no one said no to David Lewis. He flushed red for just an instant, and then went very calm. “So, is that how it’s going to be?”

 

“Dad, I’m going to try my best to …. mend the damage we’ve both done over the years, but yes. This is how it’s going to be. For now.”

 

“This is my house. If you’re going to come here, I expect you to obey my rules.”

 

“Well then, Steve and I will turn right around and leave, and you can explain to Mom how you chased me off again.”

 

David’s eyes widened. Steve gently maneuvered Darcy so that he was slightly in front of her. David Lewis had the look of every bully he’d ever met, right down to his fisted hands and explosive temper.

 

“You just… show up here, after all these years, with a man in tow, and expect us to welcome you home?”

 

“Yes. Because you always told me, Dad, that there was nothing we wouldn’t do for family. I assume I’m still family. I assume I’m still your daughter.”

 

“Fine. Be obstinate and disobedient.” David turned, leaving the stable. “I expect you to listen to your mother, though. Do not upset her, do you understand?”

 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

“One wrong move from you, Captain, and I’ll have you dealt with, do you understand me?”

 

“I’m not the kind of person you want to threaten, Mr. Lewis,” Steve said, with a voice of steel. “I’m liable to take you seriously.”

 

“Bah! The day a brainless infantry man can take me in a fight is the day I hang my sorry hat up, Captain.”

 

The door slammed shut after him.

 

“Should I go after him?” Darcy asked.

 

“No,” Steve said. “He knows now that he can’t frighten you into doing what he wants. He’ll have to change his strategy.”

 

“Ugh. Oh God. I _need_ a drink,” Darcy said under her breath

 

Steve chuckled and kissed her hand.

  
But he was thinking the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! My Tumblr got eaten, so follow me at my new one, if you please! 
> 
> storiesbyladychi.tumblr.com


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